


The Iron in the Engineers

by BambooTora



Series: Renegades of Iron [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Afghanistan, Angst, Ass-Kicking, BAMF Tony Stark, BAMF Women, Eventual Romance, F/M, Mad Science, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2019-11-15 00:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 81,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BambooTora/pseuds/BambooTora
Summary: It isn’t the first time Angela Harper uncovered shady business at her job. But when she finds that someone is stealing weapons from Stark Industries things quickly become more than she can handle alone. It may even end up more than she and her manic, playboy, billionaire boss can handle together. Part 2 of Renegades of Iron





	1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: Iron Man belongs to Marvel, not me. I make no money writing this story. I also don’t own KALEO. I just get to smash the two together and bake at 500 degrees. Suppose I should have bought a fire extinguisher._

_Author’s Note: Each chapter comes with a song title. They’re the songs I listened to as I wrote. I highly recommend you listen while you read. Throughout this story you will also find dialogue and scenes from the first Iron Man movie, so don’t be surprised. I stitched them together with some description and my plot. Hopefully I have managed a balance between the familiar Marvel verse events and original story telling._

_I have no beta for this work so all mistakes are my own._

 

Prologue:

KALEO- Way Down We Go

2008

Angela glanced over to see her boss still holding his drink. She never should have gotten into the humvee with him. The whole demonstration so far was a farce. She’d answered a few questions from the General they were presenting to, but most of the questions had been aimed at Tony. Angela couldn’t help but wonder why she’d been sent with Stark when there seemed very little gain from it.

Her boss was getting twitchy. It was the quiet she knew. Determined to tune out whatever asinine way he went about breaking it, Angela stared at the passing mountains. So far Afghanistan had been hot, dusty, and if not for the plane ride over, a waste of her time.

“Good God. You’re a woman,” Tony announced in shock. Angela felt the corner of her lip curl up in amusement. Admittedly it was hard to tell with the driver sitting down, but one look at her face and you could tell her gender. Apparently Tony hadn’t been looking at faces.

“I’m kind of having a hard time not looking at you now,” her boss admitted to the female airman. Angela huffed a quiet laugh.

As the man up front asked a question about Stark’s prowess with Maxim cover models Angela’s phone chimed. She reached a hand beneath her flak jacket to grab it.

There was only one possible person who would be texting her while she was in Afghanistan. Sure enough her brother Mike had messaged to ask if she was still okay. Angela hooded her eyes in irritated affection before tapping a message back to him.

When she was finished she thrust her phone back into it’s secure spot in her bra and looked up. Stark was watching her with an eyebrow raised. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Is it cool if I take a picture with you?” The question came from her left.

Her boss’s attention tracked to the young man sitting on the other side of her. “Yes,” Stark gave a solid nod. “It’s very cool.”

The kid who’d asked flushed and got his camera out to pass to the guy up front.

Angela looked between Stark and the young man, noting she was in the way. “Do you want to change places with me?” She asked the man to her left.

After a moment of deliberation he declared, “Not the best idea, Ma’am.”

It took a second for her to realize he was talking to her. Ma’am was an odd address. Next to her Tony snickered.

She supposed she could understand why the young man was reluctant to give up his position on the door. But it still presented a problem. “Well then how about I change positions with Mr. Stark?” She suggested.

The man in question drawled teasingly, “Tony. And yes. Please.” She thought he was serious until she saw the look on his face. Angela felt her lips purse as she gave him a heavy glare in return.

Tony immediately widened his eyes and held his hands up. “If you don’t want to be in the picture just duck down, Panda.”

She growled a bit under her breath. That nickname. Seriously? Fifteen years and he couldn’t let it go.

With a bit of focus she crunched herself forward as small as she could. It wasn’t easy with the extra padding of the Kevlar. Above her she could feel the men on either side of her lean in. While the boys above her bantered Angela had a moment to think. Wasn’t that always her life? She was constantly threatened by being squeezed out by men.

While she was placidly staring at the floor of the humvee, waiting for the picture to be taken, a sudden explosion rocked through her. Her head shot up and her back went involuntarily straight. Gooseflesh broke out along her arms as an enormous clang rattled through the vehicle. Angela realized that a heavy piece of metal had hit the hood of their transport. More important was the ball of fire that used to be the humvee in front of them. Her breath shortened in panic.

“What’s going on?” She glanced over at her Boss’s voice and saw his eyes wide with uncertainty.

The female driver yelled, “Contact left.”

The humvee rolled to a stop and the dipping tones of ricochet mixed with automatic gun fire. From somewhere ahead of them the heavy repetitive thump of the fifty caliber started.

In front of her the female driver opened her door and swung her legs out. Before her boots hit the ground several rounds hit her and she fell out the door, dead. Angela’s breath stuck in her throat as she shrank back in her seat in horror.

“Jimmy stay with Stark.” Angela whipped her attention to the elder man up front.

A surprisingly heavy arm landed over her shoulder and pushed. “Stay down,” Jimmy commanded.

Angela’s eyes darted around what she could see. For a moment her vision caught on the man from the front seat. Then a hail of bullets hit the humvee and the windshield cracked. She flinched reflexively at the impact and let out a breathy grunt. The man from up front went down and didn’t reappear.

“Son of a bitch,” Jimmy cried. The butt of his weapon swung dangerously close to her and she cringed against Stark’s leg. Angela heard a latch click and turned disbelieving eyes on the young man as he stepped out of their vehicle.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Tony cried over her head. “Give me a gun,” he demanded.

“Stay there,” Jimmy ordered.

He turned around. In the moment she lost sight of his face there was a heavy impact to the humvee and she grunted again. Angela’s ears rang and she felt a bit punch drunk. There were new patterns in the side of the humvee, like on the tin lights Nana Dugan had favored.

From below the ringing she heard Stark call out, “Are you alright?” He patted her arms. “Did you get hit?”

Angela shook her head sharply. She wasn’t sure if she was being truthful but she didn’t feel any pain.

“Come on,” the man next to her commanded. He pushed his door open and stumbled out into the desert.

Unsure it was a sound idea, Angela took another look at the holes in the opposite side of the humvee. Those got her moving.

With clumsy movements she stumbled out onto the sand in time for Tony’s shoulder to collide with her. It knocked the wind out of her and she had no time to react when the man grabbed her suit sleeve and pulled. One of her heels sunk in the sand and she stumbled. Stark’s gripped slipped but he kept running.

Ducking her head Angela hustled to kick free from her heels and followed. The sand burned under her bare feet as she ran, but in the noise and smoke she barely noticed. Ahead of her, up the incline, Tony flung himself over the top of a boulder. Halfway up the slope something hard and sharp cut into the ball of her left foot and Angela wavered in that direction. It ended up being fortuitous.

There was a whistling shriek that dropped in pitch by the right side of her head before a thud. Her eyes snapped across the sand to see the dark body of a missile with the white Stark Industries logo painted on it. Between one heartbeat and the next she took in the shape and coloring and felt as if she had been jarred out of her body.

Angela realized she was still running forward when Stark leapt out from behind the boulder and raised an arm toward her. She was almost level with him by then. Her eyes swung from him, to the missile, and back to him. They were too close. They were both going to die. A fear like she had never known punched through her gut.

She screamed. “Tony!”

The world exploded. A hot rush of wind and dirt hit her in the face. Angela was picked off her feet and tossed back down the slight hill. With a slam, her left leg and then shoulder met the earth and she rolled. After the first full rotation she managed to jam her right hand into the soil and halt her momentum.

Ahead of her through the scrub brush she could see her boss’s torso as he rolled onto his back. She saw his hands scrabble at his shirt. A stabbing, breath stealing pain took up in her side and chest. Angela was so disoriented with pain and panic she couldn‘t even yell. Abruptly the world cut away and there was only blackness. She wondered if she was already dead.

……………………………….........................................................................

A portable stereo was playing ACDC Back in Black from the front, but no one was talking. Tony glanced at the ice in his drink. “I feel like your driving me to a court marshal,” He gazed around at the stern faces in the humvee. Nobody smiled. “This is crazy. What did I do? I feel like you’re gonna pull over and snuff me.” Beside him he noticed Angela roll her eyes. “What?” He persisted to the men in front of him. “You’re not allowed to talk? Hey, Forest,” he prodded.

“We can talk, sir.” A young man dressed in camo on the other side of Angela spoke up nervously.

Tony regarded him with some thought. “Huh. I see. So it’s personal,” he concluded. He wondered if he’d done something specific or if it was just his reputation.

“No.” A woman’s voice came from up front. “You intimidate them.”

Tony’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Good God. You’re a woman.” He looked over the bulky uniform and helmet. “I honestly, I couldn’t have called that. I mean I’d apologize but isn’t that what we’re going for here. I thought of you as a soldier first,” he tried to cover.

“I’m an airman,” the woman corrected dryly.

He tilted his head and looked over what he could see of her face. “Well you have actually excellent bone structure there. I’m kind of having a hard time not looking at you now. Is that weird?” He asked. Compliments usually smoothed most things over.

Next to him Angela huffed a breath through her nose that was mostly covered up by the other’s amusement. It was her subtle way of laughing at him. That was more like it. People needed to loosen up. They were making him twitchy. “Come on it’s okay. Laugh,” he encouraged.

The man in front of him turned around. “Sir, I have a question to ask.”

Beside him a phone chimed and Angela began typing back a message. “Yes. Please,” Tony continued.

“Is it true you went twelve for twelve with last year’s Maxim cover models?” The man asked eagerly.

Tony took off his sunglasses. “That is an excellent question,” he responded playfully. He noticed Angela’s attention was still on her phone. “Yes and no. March and I had a scheduling conflict but fortunately the Christmas cover was twins,” he boasted. “Anything else?”

Angela slid her phone away and Tony noted it went beneath her flak jacket. He wondered if she’d put it in her bra. The kid on the other side of Angela raised his hand. Tony gave him a sardonic look. “You’re kidding me with the hand up. Right?”

The boy sheepishly put his hand down. “Is it cool if I take a picture with you?”

Tony gave a firm nod. Finally, something familiar. “Yes. It’s very cool.”

The kid across from him smiled shyly and the Velcro of his pocket sounded as he opened it. He got his camera out and passed it to the guy up front.

Angela looked from him to the kid. “Do you want to change places with me?” She asked the young soldier.

The younger man worked his jaw a bit, blushing. “Not the best idea, Ma’am.”

Tony snickered at the kid’s flush. Angela was beautiful and when she gave her full attention it could be intense. The kid defaulting to calling her Ma’am was funny, but the expression on her face at the address was hilarious.

“Well, then how about I change positions with Mr. Stark?” She offered.

“Tony,” he sang playfully. Someday the woman was going to call him by his first name. “And yes. Please,” he drawled teasingly.

Angela gave him a gimlet glare that promised pain. He held his hands up. Tony had witnessed the coffee cup incident. “If you don’t want to be in the picture just duck down, Panda.” He thought he heard a faint growl from her, but she obediently crunched herself forward against the flat of her thighs.

Tony couldn’t really blame her for being touchy. The military men had been more interested in speaking to him than his Head of Weapons Development. If it hadn’t been for the vital but angering information she’d given him on the plane ride over, Tony would have said her addition to their little tour group was a waste of time.

“Alright.” The guy up front took the camera and started trying to focus a picture.

Back in something he was comfortable doing, Tony’s public flippancy came to the fore. “I don’t want to see this on your Myspace page.” He glanced over Angela’s back to see the kid holding up a peace sign. That position couldn‘t be comfortable for her. “Please no gang signs,“ Tony joked. When the kid actually took it down nervously Tony added, “No throw it up I’m kidding. Yeah. Peace. I love peace. We’d be out of a job with peace.”

The man next to him tried to lean respectfully over Angela’s compacted form. “Come on,” he urge the man up front. “Come on. Just click it. Don’t change any settings.”

One moment everything was fine. He was getting ready for a shot with one of his fans. The next, the humvee ahead of them was a ball of fire. The rumble of the explosion rolled through him and he ducked. Next to him Angela shot upright, staring out the windshield in shock. A large piece of metal from the previous vehicle landed on their hood with a bang.

“What’s going on?” Tony blurted in the beginnings of panic.

“Contact left,” the female driver yelled.

The whole train of vehicles was forced to a stop and automatic weapons fire began pinging off the humvee. The female driver kicked her door open and she was immediately shot before she could put her feet on the ground. Tony watched in wide eyed horror as she dropped out of sight. He saw Angela shrink back in the seat.

“Jimmy, stay with Stark,” the man up front commanded.

“Stay down,” the man across from him, Jimmy, yelled. He reached over Angela and nudged them both down with his arm. Tony had a moment to look into Angela’s wide green eyes as they crouched together in the back of the humvee.

Through the smoke and flying sand Tony could see the man from the front seat take up position against the hood of the humvee. Without hesitation the man shot off a volley of bullets before there was more weapons fire and the windshield cracked. Tony grunted himself when the guy went down. He could hear Angela sob out a breath.

“Son of a bitch,” Jimmy cried, working on his weapon. Tony heard a door latch click and turned to see the young soldier getting out of the vehicle.

Helplessness and desperation swamped him. “Wait, wait, wait.” Tony cried. “Give me a gun,” he demanded. Dimly he could feel Angela’s back as it shuddered against his knee.

The young man turned around to face them. The expression of determination on the kid’s face seemed foreign for someone who was so timid a moment before. He commanded through the window, “Stay there.”

The kid turned around, his voice still ringing in Tony’s ears, before there was a heavy impact to the humvee. Light shone through several new holes in the side of the vehicle. Angela grunted and Tony’s attention fell to her.

“Are you alright?” He bent over her and patted at her arms, searching for blood. “Did you get hit?” Tony shook his head at the residual deafness.

Angela was shaking her head as well. He hoped that meant she hadn’t been injured. Around them shots continued to be fired and there were several explosions. They couldn‘t stay in the vehicle. That last round had punched through the side like it was paper. “Come on,” he demanded. Tony pushed his door open.

The world around him was chaotic. He smelled smoke and almost immediately the sun started heating his suit. There was another blast and Tony stumbled back into Angela’s side as she crawled out of the vehicle. He grunted.

Glancing around in panic he spotted what looked like some cover on the side of the road. Blindly his hand grabbed the shoulder of Angela’s suit jacket, but she stumbled and the slick material slipped out of his grip. It wasn’t until Tony made it up the slight incline and dived behind the boulder that he realized Angela wasn’t with him anymore. Sick dread filled his gut.

A spray of bullets hit the sand next to him and Tony tucked himself further behind the rock. With a quick thought he pulled out his phone and started texting. Before he could finish there was the high low pitch of an incoming round, then a thud. Tony looked up from his phone in terror at the whine of active ordinance. He had enough time to notice the Stark Industries logo on the side before he forced himself up and back.

A split second before it exploded Tony glanced back towards the humvee. Angela was running through the sand barefoot towards him. Her blazer was blowing wide behind her. She was only feet from him and Tony raised a hand in warning.

She looked to the side and Tony could see the whites all the way around her irises when she saw the missile that had landed near them. Her lips parted in horror and her eyes swung back to meet his. He saw her mouth open to shout but she never stopped running.

He yelled inarticulately a moment before the bomb exploded. The heat of the fire flashed across his face and he saw Angela’s feet leave the ground as she was blasted backwards.

Tony’s back collided with the dirt driving the breath out of him. Slowly he rolled his neck. His ears were ringing again and it filtered into his brain that there was a sharp pain in his chest. Woodenly Tony grabbed at his shirt and ripped the buttons apart. Blood was slowly seeping from beneath his Kevlar vest. Dizzy and disoriented, his head dropped back to the sand.

Around him the world faded in and out. Above him the sky was a clear robin’s egg blue. He wondered if he was already dead.

 


	2. Pride Goeth Before

_Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man. I also do not own the Renegades. I just get to mix them together and see if they’re suitable for patching my driveway. I probably should have hired a professional for that._

 

Chapter 1: Pride Goeth Before

X Ambassadors- Renegades

Two Months Earlier…

Angela adjusted the drape of her dark emerald gown. With her deep brunette hair piled in curls against her neck and the asymmetrical cut of the dress, she knew she looked fantastic. She waited in the line for the valet in front of the venue patiently.

When her turn came she gracefully exited the driver’s side and handed her keys to the young man. Cameras flashed and she smiled politely. It wasn’t every day that she was so far out in the public spotlight, but that night was a special occasion.

The Freedom Line had been completed only a week before and Mr. Stark was holding one of his celebratory galas. She swore that man would hold a party for any reason. This though, was well deserved in her opinion. As she strode up the path to enter the Bel-Air she felt like a conquering goddess.

Once she made it through the doors she was greeted by a smooth modern set up. As she passed the initial entry and moved over to the bar, the flooring changed to a neat chevron pattern beneath her feet. Around her the place was flooded with well dressed men and women already networking.

Angela stopped to grab a glass of wine and spotted the head of legal and his wife down the bar. “Good evening Mr. Jimmez, Mrs. Jimmez.”

Jimmez and his wife were open minded and forthright conversationalists. She made a point to speak with them often. Beyond the fact that she legitimately enjoyed their company it was always a good idea to have someone friendly in legal.

The thin bald man smiled, exaggerating the lines around his eyes. “Good evening Miss. Harper. Congratulations. I hear we have you and your department to thank for tonight’s festivities.”

“Thank you. Yes,” she chuckled. “Six months of collectively pulling our hair out. I believe this wine is well deserved,” she joked. Jimmez nodded in understanding and his wife laughed. Angela turned to address the woman. “How are you? I read that your garden was featured in March’s Birds and Blooms magazine. Congratulations.”

The elder woman lit up at the compliment. “Thank you, dear. It was.” Mrs. Jimmez adopted a rueful look. “Of course now I somehow must find room for improvement.”

“The burdens of success,” Angela mock lamented.

“A wonderful toast,” Jimmez happily lifted his drink. Angela tapped her wine glass to his highball and sipped.

Not long after finishing her conversation and moving out onto the patio, her gaze landed on Pepper Potts. Angela’s burgundy painted lips formed into a twist of amusement at the red head‘s predicament. Pepper was caught in a conversation with two board members of Stark Industries.

Her friend could never go anywhere without fielding people who wanted to speak to Mr. Stark. Being known as someone who was in direct contact with the big Boss herself, Angela had also been subjected to people trying to corner her for the same reason. The difference was that most of the time she could brush them off. But scheduling people to talk to Stark was Pepper’s job.

After the quick survey of the scene Angela made up her mind to intervene. It was a celebration. And Pepper of all people needed thirty minutes to unwind. Her heels clicked steadily along the tile as she made her way toward her friend.

“Miss. Harper,” the red head greeted. There was a hint of relief about her manner, but it was so small Angela was sure the board members hadn’t noticed.

“Miss. Potts. Gentleman,” Angela dipped her chin at the two younger board members. They introduced themselves and Angela proceeded to flatter the men. From the corner of her eye she could pick up Pepper’s subtle signs of amusement.

The skills Angela had been honing in a male dominated field since college had only grown sharper. Within a few moments she’d managed to steer the conversation into a risk versus rewards discussion about future projects containing the new proprietary repulsors.

The conversation with the board members was only an opening. But if she was charming enough it would stick in their minds and at a later date she could capitalize on it. Thrill slid through her. The interaction was her game and they were her pieces.

Toward the end of the conversation Pepper finally managed to excuse herself and Angela took one of the gentleman up on a dance. If she wanted to talk to her friend she’d have to do it later. It seemed they had both ended up working that night.

With a polished motion Angela took a last sip of her wine and settled the glass on a nearby table. The board member, Gardner, was handsome enough. He was around her age and impeccably tailored. Of course the downside to the opportunity of dancing with him was making sure the man didn’t disengage the professional part of his brain and start thinking of her as just a pretty tart.

Gardner apparently hadn’t mastered his end of the dance. His hand dipped to the top of her ass and Angela fought to keep the grimace off her face. A half a step back forced him to raise his hold and solved the problem. Situations like that were an occupational hazard, but she had lines. If he crossed them again she’d have to get assertive. That would probably put a crimp in her plans.

Thankfully the song ended shortly afterward and, with a few demure comments, Angela was able to break free. She sucked on the inside of her bottom lip in consideration before spotting the head of med-tech and the head of agri-tech talking on the far side of the patio.

Her new favorite intern Jessica had expressed an interest in medical technology. One of her persistent favorites, Tim, was interested in horticulture. With sure movements she joined the men across from her to plump for her favorites.

It was over an hour of mingling later when Mr. Stane approached her. The broad balding man cut an impressive figure in his gray suit. Angela had never dealt with Stane much. The man was more of an overseer. He didn’t stick his hands in the projects.

“Angela,” he greeted. His arms dropped out to his side drawing the full attention of the General she had just started conversing with.

She smiled at his easy exuberance. “Good evening Mr. Stane. Have you been introduced to General Craddock?”

“I have not,” he informed. Angela watched with a hooded expression of amusement as the two men performed the dance of high profile men everywhere. “This is a big night for our Miss. Harper,” Mr. Stane explained, gesturing to her.

A flush of proprietary pride ran through her. Her team had worked long hours. She’d worked longer. The Freedom Line had been a challenging, innovative project. The first she had fully overseen as Head of Weapons Development.

“You’re looking at the woman who helped knock the bugs out of the repulsor technology the Freedom Line is based on,” Stane boasted.

She noted that Craddock gave her a second look at those words. She struggled to keep a dark, haughty brow from raising. Instead she deepened the curve of what she knew were wide lips.

“Worked with Tony Stark himself. For what?” Stane paused to look at her questioningly.

“From design to a working production model took us two months,” she answered easily.

The General blinked a bit at that. “Two whole months to develop a brand new, cutting edge propulsion system?” He asked, shaking his head. “Astounding.”

It’d been two months of her and Stark butting heads over the design via email. In the end it had taken more than video conferences. She’d had to make a few memorable trips to the Stark Complex West to get finished.

“Well,” Angela chimed in, “Mr. Stark is a genius.”

Stane chuckled. “That Tony is, and you’re right behind him,” he complimented her. He turned back to the General. “She’s been an untold asset to the company,” Stane continued. “Sole designer of the AGM-31 Widow and FGM-96 Reaper.” He chuckled a bit and sent a crinkle eyed smile at her. “Not to mention had major design input into every weapon included in the Freedom Line.”

“I have the pleasure of collaborating with fantastic minds. My department is a shining example of Stark Industries drive to be the best,” she answered politically.

“Yes,” the military man sipped from his drink. “This new line has certainly put Stark International ahead of the rest. Congratulations on that.” He paused before turning to Stane. “I understand the Freedom Line took a total of only six months from conception to testing?” General Craddock asked.

Angela let the two men continue and only piped in when necessary. After awhile they switched to more Washington related matters and she pleaded out of the conversation for a trip to the bar. Grabbing another glass of wine, Angela took a breather near a vine covered wall. Of course that was where he found her.

As he always did, he sidled a step too far into her personal space. He was one of the few who could get away with it. She knew he didn‘t mean anything by it. Not really.

“Enjoying your night, Panda?” The dark haired man asked.

That nickname was horrible. She fought to keep the eye roll internal as she took two steps away. Their little back and forth was a game they‘d been playing since the first time they met. “I am,” she answered evenly. “And yourself, Mr. Stark?”

“How many times do I have to ask it?” He asked in a faux patient voice. Angela bit down an impish part of her that wanted to reply ‘at least once more, Mr. Stark. As always.’ Of course he was more of a Jack Sparrow.

She entertained herself briefly with the image of him being eaten by a kraken. Although they’d worked together on projects before, after two months solid, she kind of wanted to kill him herself. He was a horrible lab partner. Instead she reminded, “This is a work function, Mr. Stark.”

The man hummed in distaste and Angela finally turned to look at him. He was in a dark suit, hair gelled, and goatee severely trimmed. “You are a siren in green,” he purred.

Fifteen years and Stark had never fully managed professionalism with her. Maybe that was why she’d never managed it with him. “Thank you,” she replied distantly. Then with a bit of a tease in her voice she added, “You look well assembled yourself.”

He mock preened before taking a sip from his drink. “I saw you dancing with Gardner,” he segued.

Angela made a slightly aggrieved noise at the mention of the younger board member.

The man dipped his chin a bit, staring at her with dark eyes. “Don’t you know enough by now to know who to dance with and who to avoid?” He asked a bit chidingly.

She gave him a warning look over her wine glass.

Stark grinned and held his hands up. “Easy, Panda,” he drawled. “I’m just wondering if I need to have another sensitivity training seminar,” he commented cheekily.

“I am capable of handling inappropriate behavior.” She brushed at the lay of her skirt. When she looked back up an arrogant brow rose challengingly. “I do work with you,” she reminded.

“Don’t lie,” he warned. His mouth parted and he put on a playful smile. “You enjoy spending time with me.”

She gave a noncommittal hum, feigning confusion. “Enjoy? I hadn‘t realized the word had been redefined.”

“Mr. Stark,“ a man called. Angela swung her attention in the direction of the hail. Fortunately, or unfortunately, one could not be Tony Stark without getting spotted. An older board member approached them.

“And with your protégé,” the man enthused. He shook her Boss’s hand and then took hers. When he dipped gallantly over the back of her hand she dimpled politely.

The man turned back to Stark, and Angela had to close her eyes because she couldn’t stop the eye roll. When she reopened them she saw that Stark had taken on his devil-may-care mien.

“Well,” her Boss drawled. “Angela is more than a protégé.”

She shot him a discreet moue and wished she knew who had started the protégé bit. It wasn‘t like she was under his guidance or being groomed for his position. She was simply the only engineer he was willing to collaborate directly with.

The curve of his grin went a bit sharper. “She’s an incredible engineer in her own right,” he said plainly.

Damn that man. That was one of the reasons she’d never been able to completely buck him. He listened to her and seemed to actually respect her as a fellow builder. When the board member inadvertently dismissed her from the conversation, Tony shot her a look of long suffering over the man’s shoulder.

Angela looked off to the side for a moment and then met Stark’s eyes again. She let her expression fall into wry fondness and then cleared her throat. The board member jerked back, realizing there had been a third person there. Angela took his moment of embarrassed awkwardness to excuse herself.

She found Pepper again near a set of palm trees. For a moment Angela reminded herself she was living her dream in Malibu. The evening breeze washed over her and she let some tension drop from her shoulders. “How’s the night been?” She asked Pepper informally.

“Busy,” Pepper commented wryly. “I saw you were busy too,” she teased.

Angela gave out a scoffing chuckle. “When is it not and when am I not?”

Pepper made an agreeing noise.

“Where’s Happy this time?” Angela asked.

The red head nodded a bit to the corner of the floor near Mr. Stark. The large dark haired body guard, and Pepper’s husband of just under a year, watched their Boss’s surroundings with intensity. He glanced across at the two women a few times.

Angela ducked her head to hide her smile. “Always on watch,” she commented with affection. Happy always looked after the people he considered his charges.

Pepper gave a laugh. “He was going to intervene with Mr. Gardner. I had to remind him you were perfectly capable of hitting the man in the head to get your point across.”

Angela turned to the red head in exasperation. “That was one time.” She noticed the smirk on Pepper’s face and sighed. “I am never going to live that down.”

“With a full coffee cup just as the door of the elevator opened on the executive floor, Angie,” the assistant reminded. “No. I don’t think you will.”

With an aggrieved noise Angela defended, “He was embezzling from the company, Pep. I didn’t expect him to realize I’d found out and try to choke me.”

“Of course you didn’t,” the woman next to her huffed.

……………………………….........................................................................

“That’s not right,” Angela murmured aloud. She had almost skimmed past it.

Technically double checking shipping manifests and the weapons inventory was not her job. But they could give her an idea about what tech was in the most demand, and therefore the desires of her target market.

Angela had found in her years working with Stark Industries that it was important to anticipate. If you solely reacted, you were often too late. It made sense considering the frantic energy of the big boss.

Beyond that, it had been only a year before that a Hammer Industries spy had been out-ed from the company. Not to mention the long ago thieving intern. With a healthy dose of wariness she re-read the shipping manifest. It continued to have an incorrect pairing of address and recipient.

Angela knew the company it was supposed to be going to. A bit a searching later she had the correct address. The street number had a few digits transposed. Google showed the manifest’s address as being a defunct furniture store.

With a few swift keystrokes she saved a screenshot of the erroneous manifest. Then she set about writing a memo for Mr. Henz, the Director of Inventory. It was protocol.

Her phone chimed and Angela glanced at the time. It had just hit five in the evening. She decided to pack it in for the night. When she wasn’t fully absorbed in a project she tried to keep normal working hours. Not that her mind ever really left work.

Before she left she sent the memo off to Henz. She’d found the irregularity, but it was his department. She could hand this one off to him.

……………………………….........................................................................

Angela sat back and allowed the caterers to set up the spread in the R&D conference room. She discreetly double checked that there was tea available for Tim and Cathy, non-dairy creamer for Alicia, and gluten free bagels for Taylor. When everything seemed correct she thanked the staff and waited for her people to start showing up.

Taylor’s messy blonde head poked around the door only a few minutes later. “Office party?”

“Office party,” Angela answered, sipping her coffee. She gestured to the final designs marketing had sent down yesterday.

He gave a sound of appreciation and entered the room fully. After a quick flip through of the brochure he commented, “The Jericho looks fierce.”

Angela gave a smug agreeing hum. The younger man made his way to the banquet table and set about prepping his breakfast. A smirk settled onto her lips. Taylor was lanky and often made large movements. When you worked with him you had to watch out for his elbows.

Over the next fifteen minutes the room filled with the people from her department. Jessica made a beeline for the coffee and fruit salad before plopping down next to Angela.

When everyone had a chance to get some coffee and look over the stuff from marketing Angela stood from her chair to address them. “As you’ve all noticed we received the final designs from the Marketing team for the Freedom Line. Which means that our weapons are ready to go out into the world and do their jobs.” There were a few cheers and some clapping. Angela waited for it to die down before continuing.

“I’d like to thank you all for doing such outstanding work on this project. The level of diligence and creativity I observed from you all has made me incredibly proud to be part of this team.” She glanced around the room at the disparate personalities before continuing. “I know we were given a challenging deadline. But you’ve all proven that we here at Development excel under pressure.” There were a few more hoots and some gentle ribbing.

Angela drew in a breath and gestured to the food around her and announced, “Take the morning to celebrate your achievements. We‘re without executive rudder at the moment, so wow me with you engineering prowess. Proposals for new projects are due by this Friday.” She held her cup of coffee out in a toast. “Congratulations Development. I’ve been told Mr. Stark said, and I quote, we ‘knocked it out of the park.’” She took a sip from her coffee.

Around her the people of her department tapped cups together in celebration before breaking into little knots to converse. Alicia and Cathy pulled themselves away from Tim to come talk to her. She ended up listening to the arguments about the feasibility of a solar powered rocket artillery system for the rest of the morning.

……………………………….........................................................................

Later that afternoon Angela listened to her brother Mike complain about her corrupting his four year old son.

“He’s still playing with it,” he groused over the phone. She sucked on her lips in amusement. “Brandon’s all about airplanes right now. He won‘t stop talking about the trip you two took to the Air and Space Museum either.”

Angela smiled and curled her legs underneath her on her sofa. “I’m just glad he liked it. I swear Angie II has tripled in size. I can’t believe she’s a year already.” She spun her wine glass between her fingers.

Her brother hummed in agreement. “Yeah. They grow fast,” he said a little wistfully.

“I wish I could get out to you guys more,” Angela lamented.

“You get out here two, three times a year. Cleveland is not a vacation destination,” he informed her with mock gravity. “One of these times I’m going to convince you to vacation somewhere with a warm beach away from work. Find yourself some hot island guy so my kids can have cousins,” he teased.

She snorted. “Why don’t you just hook me up with one of your hot surgeon buddies?”

“No. No. We tried that remember,” he chortled. “It was awful.”

Angela leaned forward and defended herself. “All he would talk about the whole time was the insides of people. There are things about the human body I do not want to know.”

“Ah come on, Genie. You wouldn’t stop talking about your work either,” He jousted.

“In self defense,” She argued.

“What’s the big deal? It’s all just machinery, human or mechanical. You’d think that’d be enough in common,” he protested jokingly.

“No,” she brushed some hair out of her face. “Besides he smelled like antiseptic on our date.”

“Well, us heart surgeons bathe in the stuff you know. Molly thinks it’s sexy,” he drawled.

Angela snickered a bit. “That’s what she’s told you anyway,” she teased.

There was a cry on the other end of the line, far off and warbling. “She’s playing my song,” her brother sighed. “Can’t get a break from either of you.”

“You’re the one that named her Evangeline,” she pointed out.

“Come on. It’s perfect,” he insisted softly. “The names of three quarters of the most important women in my life.”

With sad remembrance, Angela thought of Mike‘s mom Evelyn. “You going to go visit them?” She asked quietly.

He gave a sigh. “We’re driving down Saturday. I can’t believe it’s been five years already.” Mike mused.

Five years to the day since they lost her father and Evelyn. They’d been headed out to Washington state for their vacation. It’d been part of their plan to meet up with her for a weekend during the trip. Then a faulty part and negligent maintenance caused their plane to crash just after take off.

Angela hated leaving him alone on this visit. It’d been a tough few years for them. They’d lost the last of their grandparents in quick succession not long after the crash. Mike and his family were all she had now.

“Take some Gladiolas for me?” She asked.

“Course. You going to send me the money for them?” He teased.

She smirked at the familiar banter. With the settlement from the crash they were both extremely well off. Even after five years they were still getting used to it. Money was a joke between them now. A way of coping.

“Sure,” she quipped. “You want to get paid in beer? I heard of a new microbrewery in Encino.”

He made an excited noise. In the background Angela could hear Angie II give another wail. Mike sighed. “I’ve got to go. Molly’s going to have my head if I shirk bedtime duties again.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Angela finished off her glass of wine in the silence, feeling a bit melancholy.

She thought of how Eve had wanted to see the Pacific ocean and how her Dad had always kept a greenhouse. He loved his flowers, especially Glads. On impulse she stood and grabbed her wrap from the back of the couch.

Just because she couldn’t go to their actual graves didn’t mean she couldn’t have a smaller private memorial. It was early yet. She’d walk down to the florist and then head to the beach.


	3. Fool's Gold

_Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man or Barnes Courtney. I just threw them in a room together and prayed they didn’t breed. There’s something I probably could have bought for that too. I also should probably hire a therapist._

 

Chapter 2: Fool’s Gold

Barnes Courtney- Glitter and Gold

It happened again. Angela scowled as she stared at the bill of parcel on the computer screen. It contained a shipping address error. The same address she had sent a memo to Henz about two months before. There was no excuse for him not having taken care of it.

Temper piqued, she dug through recent orders and uncovered two more mistakes. One even had the company name spelled incorrectly; that was just unprofessional. Clicking back through the databases she tried to bring up the manifest she’d originally seen as wonky for comparison. It came up on her screen and her expression eased into confusion.

The list was not as she remembered it. One doesn’t just forget seeing something like that, especially not someone as detail oriented as Angela had to be. Even if they had fixed the error, the original document should’ve shown up under the ID number she typed in, not a corrected version. She drew in a long steady breath. She was crazy. The place had finally driven her crazy. Mike had been telling her it would for years.

Shaking her head she went back to her own files and pulled up the screenshot she’d saved on the off chance anything weird happened again. At least she tried to. It was gone.

She sat there staring at the list of files on her computer, reading it over and over, but the file name she was looking for refused to surface. Her lips pursed before she followed the logical path and checked the recycle bin. Nothing.

‘Well,’ she thought to herself. ‘Nothing is every really deleted.’ A bit of navigation and a few commands later she was left empty handed. It was as if the file had never been on her computer. That shouldn’t have been possible without outside interference.

Angela flicked her eyes around her office before clicking back into the open receipt. Yup. Still there. The three slips all shared the same irregularity. They said they were going to one company but the delivery address did not match that company. She tapped her fingers across the keyboard rhythmically in contemplation.

With a few deft keystrokes she stored screenshots of the erroneous manifests on her computer, then minimized the open windows. It would take a long time to go pecking through older shipping orders. Too long. If there were things being misdelivered it might not be her ass but it would be somebody’s.

Anxiety was growing in her gut. There was a lot of room for petty mistakes in a company as large as SI, but something about the situation seemed off. Sucking on her lips Angela checked the other two addresses on the lists. One came up as a thrift store and the other didn’t exist. That was very, very bad. Weapons, whole finished bombs basically, were going missing someplace they were not supposed to.

The only thing that had been changed on the previous bill of parcel had been the delivery address. Clerical error? It was possible. But the error database system was there for a reason and it didn‘t explain the file missing from her computer.

Part of her wanted to exit out of everything and pretend nothing seemed wrong, to just go on with her life. Shipping and Inventory were not her departments and therefore not her responsibility. On the other hand Angela designed those weapons for a living. One in the hands of someone not approved would be disastrous. If she ignored it, and it was something sinister, did that make her culpable? Was she already?

Hoping she was wrong, Angela pulled a thumb drive from her desk drawer. She backed up the screenshots displaying the three new errors to the stick, left the originals on her computer, and opted not to send a memo. The next day she’d check again. If the receipts were changed, if the image files were off her computer again, then she would have a much bigger problem.

It was probably nothing, she tried to comfort herself. Mike was going to end up right. The place was just finally making her crazy.

……………………………….........................................................................

Angela spent the night trying to convince herself that her suspicions weren’t always right. By the time she gave up sleep as a bad job it was only five in the morning. She managed to keep herself from going in to work until only an hour before her usual time. Upon her arrival, Tim, always an early worker, greeted her.

“Having trouble?” The man tilted his head, his black hair falling in neat waves that framed his jaw.

Angela blinked in confusion. “Trouble?”

He hummed and took a sip of, what she could smell, was chai tea. “IT was by.”

With sheer force of will Angela put on an aggrieved look in lieu of the alarmed one she wanted to wear. “Probably new security software. They install it anywhere else?”

“Nope,” Tim scratched his ear. “Your office only.”

Angela raised her chin in acknowledgement and went to move down the hall.

“It was Hoeft, by the way.” At Angela’s questioning look he elaborated. “The IT tech was Hoeft.”

She catalogued the name and tried not to look nervous. “Thanks, Tim.” Her second could be as detail oriented as her.

Trying not to seem hasty she made her way into her office. After waiting for her computer to boot up she immediately checked her files, looking for the saved screenshots. They were gone. Dread boiled in her gut. ‘What kind of sloppy operation is this?’ She wondered.

Angela tried to log into the shipping network to access the manifests but was denied. Swallowing a mouthful of saliva she stared at the red text claiming her password was not recognized. It firmly pointed to Hoeft doing some things he shouldn’t have been doing.

The lock chip was still in her bag with the saved images on it. She could take her experience to Stark or Stane now and she knew she would be taken seriously. But with so little information all she would manage would be to start a company wide witch hunt. Hoeft would be caught in the net; however anyone else working with him would probably slip away.

Her eyes narrowed in anger at the thought. Someone had invaded her private space. Something had been stolen, personally, from her. Whoever was responsible, they were not smarter than her.

With a sniff of distain she exited out of the section of the network containing the shipping database and instead jumped to Inventory. If someone was stealing weapons, which seemed highly plausible, then stealing components would be easier. They had made their move. It was time for her to find a work around.

After the first fishy sounding disposal report without follow up she exited out of the SI mainframe all together and cleared her tracks. Angela fought to keep her breathing steady. Based on her experiences whistleblowers could get strangled in elevators. She wasn’t going to keep her nose out of it however.

She dithered a moment over who’s log in and computer she could commandeer without causing them grief. Frank, one of her project leaders, was a month into paternity leave. He would have proper access.

Angela unlocked the bottom drawer on her desk and rifled through the files before finding the yellow sticky note with his login and password. She stood from her desk and made her way to the lab Frank frequented. Taking a seat at his workstation she punched in his password. Back in the SI network, Angela flexed her fingers and got to work under a little more cover. She pulled up the parts lists and started looking for oddities.

Her second find was a group of control actuator systems that had been destroyed in an accident. There was none of the required follow up with the safety team, or the disposal team. The next was a series of electrical components that went missing from any record after being acquired. From one inventory list to the next they disappeared. Pressure vessels and rocket motor casings were shipped, re-shipped, and then lost without proper follow up as well.

All of the incidences could have been individual screw ups except that they had one thing in common. As someone who had designed many of the weapons created by SI in the last ten years, Angela had a running parts list in her head. The missing components she’d found slotted into a mental inventory. Her stomach rolled in horror when they matched up enough to completely build at least three different models of weapons.

For a moment she sat there breathing through her nose, trying not to be sick. Then, with precise movements, she saved screenshots of everything. Angela pulled the jump drive out of her purse and transferred the information onto it.

“Hey, boss lady,” a voice greeted from the door. Angela jumped. “Whoa,” Jessica drawled. “Stressful day?” The intern peered at her. “Are you feeling well? You’re,” she paused, “Pale.”

Angela rubbed a hand under her eyes and groaned. “Yeah. It’s been a stressful day,” she parroted. With more effort than usual she slid a mental glass wall between herself and her feelings. She drew up a slightly haughty tone. “IT was in working on my station. Whatever it was they fixed, they broke more.”

The intern hummed in commiseration. “Well,” she hesitated. “Just wanted to let you know that Pi melted a circuit board. So if you smell plastic it’s from him.”

A smirk quirked her lips. “Duly noted. Remind him about filling out an incident report, please. Thank you, Jessica.” The intern bobbed her head before leaving. Angela knew it wouldn’t pass for a normal interaction. But thankfully Jessica was a twenty four year old college student and wouldn’t question.

Her eyes drifted back down to the computer screen and she sucked on her bottom lip. The anomalies she was uncovering were spread out through various departments. Safety, inventory, and acquisition all had at least one instance. There were bits and bobs that made a terrible whole. If she hadn’t known everything that went into a multitude of weapons, especially from the Freedom Line, she would have never put it together.

It coalesced in her mind’s eye until she was swallowing rapidly and her hands felt shaky. Someone who could manipulate all those disparate areas of the company was purposefully skimming tech off. They were being careful about it, but not too careful. Arrogance then, she assessed.

Likely they didn’t think anyone could or would look. She wouldn’t have either if not for those hastily changed receipts and the files disappearing from her computer. Mentally Angela confirmed IT to her list of departments involved. Hoeft was definitely some form of dirty.

Fear struck through her as she realized that they were bold enough to wipe the files from her computer and block her access. With the breadth of what she was seeing it couldn’t be Hoeft on his own.

Her next steps forward would have to be careful ones. When people thought they were about to be caught doing something illegal they could get violent. She was in danger.

……………………………….........................................................................

“Potts.” The red head sounded tired. Angela could commiserate. She’d ducked into an out of the way section near logistics to make her phone call. With Hoeft having been in her office it wasn’t safe to speak in there.

“Pepper, it’s Angela. I need to set up a meeting as soon as possible with Mr. Stark.” Her eyes flashed around looking for anyone who might be eavesdropping. You could never be one hundred percent sure your conversations were secure when you worked closely with Tony Stark.

“Okay.” Her friend didn’t seem to take in the urgency in Angela’s tone. “What about?”

“It’s not something to speak of in the depth necessary over the phone, but there are irregularities that are of serious concern. It’s important,” she stressed. “It needs direct attention from Mr. Stark as soon as possible.”

Pepper hummed. In the background Angela could hear what sounded like several things going on. “Mr. Stark’s schedule is full until he leaves for the weapons demonstration,” she informed. “I’ll check, but I believe the first opening he has is next Tuesday. Don’t quote me. You know how it is to schedule something with him.”

Angela grimaced deeply. She’d all but forgotten about the Jericho demonstration scheduled for the weekend. “No chance of squeezing me in sooner? I could probably just type up my observations and hand off a jump drive with the information. I could drive over,” she offered. “I don’t want to email.” This really needed to get to someone’s hands other than hers.

“I’m trying to get him off for the awards ceremony in Vegas right now. He‘s late, as usual. After that it’s right back to the airport for the demonstration,” the red head explained.

Before Pepper got herself too worked up Angela cut in. “Okay. What about Mr. Stane?” He wasn’t her first choice but she’d take him. The information in her hands was explosive. “Do you know off the top of your head?”

“Already in Las Vegas,” Pepper sighed gustily. “Then he’s on a plane to Switzerland until sometime next week.”

Angela sucked on her bottom lip and resisted making a deeply frustrated noise. With a breath she centered herself. “Fine. I can wrap this for a long weekend but Tuesday, Pepper.” She tried to convey her urgency without seeming like she’d lost control of the situation. “Seriously, it has to be Tuesday.”

There was a bang and yelling from the other side of the phone. Angela shook her head at the apparent chaos on Pepper‘s end of the line. She debated telling the other woman more, but she really didn’t feel safe explaining over the phone.

“I promise,” Pepper assured. “Now I have to get back to this before someone blows something up,” she finished in exasperation.

“Sure. Okay.” Angela smoothed her hair out of her eyes. She could do it, she reassured herself. She could keep the situation under wraps for a long weekend.

Another shout came from Pepper’s end and the woman gave a sound of annoyance. “Bye, Angie.”

“Bye, Pep,” Angela replied. When the call ended she stuffed her phone back into her bra and rubbed a hand under her eyes. Tuesday. Five days. She could keep a handle on things until then.

Angela turned to leave the corridor. Ahead of her a young bald man passed through the entryway towards security. She eyed him suspiciously before deciding he’d been too far away to overhear her call. It still made her feel paranoid.

……………………………….........................................................................

The next day Angela was back at Frank‘s terminal. Halfway through the morning her assistant tracked her down.

“Miss. Harper, Mr. Garrick from public relations is waiting in your office.” Claire spoke from the doorway.

Angela’s brow furrowed in confusion. Without looking up she observed, “He doesn’t have an appointment.” She copied a few more bits of info to her thumb drive and highlighted a line on one of the open documents.

“No,” Claire agreed. “But he insisted it was urgent.”

Angela sighed, knowing that if Garrick was waiting for her she‘d have to deal with the man. Finally looking up at Claire she nodded. “Alright. Let me close up here and I’ll meet him in my office. Less than five minutes,” she assured.

Once her assistant left Angela finished saving a few more files before ejecting the lock chip and dropping it into her purse. She powered down the computer and exited the lab.

A few moments later she entered her office to find Garrick, a tall middle aged man with a full head of grey hair and a neat beard, standing by her side table. He seemed to be entertaining himself by looking over her selection of flavored coffees.

“Mr. Garrick,” she greeted politely. “What brings you to the Development department today?”

Angela noticed he was carrying a packet usually reserved for when she was expected to travel. Her brows furrowed slightly. She had no meetings that required that on her schedule.

The man raised his head and flashed a smile, that Angela uncharitably thought, the cameras probably loved. She had limited patience for PR, less for the man in front of her. “New marching orders,” he joked.

Angela made an inquiring noise as he handed her the packet. She sat behind her desk, flipped it open, and skimmed through the itinerary. “Am I reading this correctly?” She skimmed it again to be sure it said what she’d thought. It still said Afghanistan. “I’ve never been asked to be at a weapons demonstration outside of the country before,” she protested.

The man moved to lean against her side of the desk and Angela fought a grimace at his proprietary air. “Well Angela, you’ve been Head of Weapons Development for just over half a year. It was bound to happen.” He waved a hand at the packet. “All the information is in there. You’ll be traveling with Mr. Stark and our Military liaison so don’t be late,” he chided.

Angela couldn’t stop her jaw from clenching at his condescending tone. “Any particular reason why this demonstration? Who did this come from?” She fought to keep her voice even. In her mind she had already latched on to the ’with Mr. Stark.’ It would give her time to address her issue with the man before Tuesday. But really, an active war zone?

Mr. Garrick leaned forward and patted her hand. “Oh, one of the big bosses thought it would be appropriate to have you tag along. Don’t worry about it. This is good news for you.” That soap opera star smile made a reappearance.

‘And that’s enough from Garrick,’ Angela thought with ill temper. “Of course. Thank you, Mr. Garrick. I’ll be sure to go over this thoroughly.”

Thorough and diabolical thinking was what she was known for, after all. Surprisingly she found the diabolical part actually increased with managerial responsibility. It positively exploded when you added in corporate politics.

The man smiled again, satisfied, before he turned and left her office. Angela let out a long sigh and then looked back down at the packet. Worry squirmed in her gut.

In her time as a project leader, Deputy, and then Head, Angela had traveled to places like Alaska, Texas, and New York. Never had she been sent to a foreign country. Of course, Mr. Garrick had a point. She had been Head for only ten months. It was bound to happen eventually.

Angela bit her lip in consideration. Like she’d thought before, it would give her a captive audience on the plane a full three days earlier than she could otherwise achieve it. Plus she’d be traveling with the CEO of Stark Industries. Even if it was an active war zone, the security was bound to be incredible. Right?

……………………………….........................................................................

After a long silence she heard the greenhouse door bang shut. “I’m sorry. I thought I just heard you say Afghanistan,” Mike deadpanned.

Angela squeezed her eyes shut but continued folding her clothes. “You did,” she admitted.

“That,” her brother bit out. “Is an active war zone.”

She dropped the shirt she was folding to rub her hand over the loose hairs around her face. “I know that, Mike.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him what had been going on at work. She wanted to make him understand why she needed to go, beyond the fact that she’d been basically ordered to do so. Prudence kept her quiet about it. Her brother would not be happy with her getting involved in another potentially dangerous situation.

He growled in displeasure at her short response.

“Mikey, I’ve got to go,” she pressed. “It’s my job.”

After a long inhale from the other end of the line her brother responded. “Damn it. Be careful, Genie.”

“I will,” she vowed. “I’m traveling with Tony Stark. We’re going to have a full military caravan,” she reassured him.

……………………………….........................................................................

Tony spent a pretty good night with Miss. Brown before ducking down to his shop. He knew Pepper would take care of showing out his guest.

“Give me an exploded view,” he ordered, peering at the schematics for his flathead.

“The compression in cylinder three appears to be low,” JARVIS announced.

“Log that,” he commanded.

From the edge of his attention he heard Pepper say, “I'm gonna try again, right now.”

His music suddenly dropped in volume. “Please don't turn down my music,” he complained.

“I'll keep you posted,” Pepper finished into the phone. She turned to him. “You are supposed to be halfway around the world right now.”

“How'd she take it?” Tony asked without looking up.

“Like a champ,” Pepper replied.

Tony held up a part in front of him. “Why are you trying to hustle me out of here?”

“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago,” she said with slight exasperation.

He continued working on his car, feeling a bit annoyed by the deadline. “That's funny, I thought with it being my plane and all, that it would just wait for me to get there.”

“Tony,” Pepper called in that strained patient tone she often used. “I need to speak to you about a couple things before I get you out of the door.”

“Doesn't it kind of defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?” He rose to sit on the car tire and face his assistant. He wasn’t thrilled about the demonstration in Afghanistan. It wouldn’t be the worst place he had been, but it was close.

“Larry called,” Pepper continued, undaunted. “He's got another buyer for the Jackson Pollock in the wings. Do you want it? Yes or no.” She gestured shortly.

“Is it a good representation of his spring period?” He asked.

“No. The Springs was actually the neighborhood in East Hampton where he lived and worked.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Not "spring" like the season.”

“So?” Tony pressed.

Pepper deliberated for a moment. “I think it's a fair example. I think it's incredibly overpriced,” she admitted.

Incredibly overpriced? That was his wheelhouse. “I need it. Buy it. Store it,” he commanded and walked further into his shop.

“Okay,” she drawled, following. “The MIT commencement speech…”

He cut her off. “Is in June. Please, don't harangue me about stuff that's way, way, down…”

She cut him off without fear. And that was why she was his assistant. “They're haranguing me, so I'm gonna say yes.”

“Deflect it and absorb it,“ Tony commanded grabbing his espresso cup. “Don't transmit it back to me.”

“I need you to sign this before you get on the plane,” Pepper steamrolled over him.

“What are you trying to get rid of me for?” Tony asked suspiciously. “What, you got plans?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she answered.

Tony felt curiosity grow within him. “I don't like it when you have plans,” he protested.

She shut him down. “I'm allowed to have plans on my birthday.”

With a few blinks, Tony processed. “It's your birthday?”

Pepper cocked her head. “Yes.”

Tony supposed she and Happy had plans then. “I knew that,” he lied. “Already?” That had been fast.

“Yeah. Isn't that strange? It's the same day as last year,” she quipped sarcastically.

“Get yourself something nice from me,” he ordered.

“I already did,” she admitted. “Also Angela,” she began.

Tony’s head whipped up like a hunting dog. It was a tiny bit embarrassing to him how quickly that name could get his attention.

“She called the day before yesterday,” Pepper informed.

She had?

“It sounded serious. I set a meeting for you with her on Tuesday,” she concluded.

Tony felt a bit wrong footed. What could be so important that Panda bear would want a face to face meeting with him? He was pretty sure that the last time she walked out of his house she was ready to skin him.

“Alright,” he agreed slowly and finally moved to get ready for his flight.


	4. Definition

_Disclaimer: I do not own Of Monsters and Men. I also do not own Iron Man. He belongs to Marvel. I just get to throw them in the cage and let them fight it out. I probably should have hired a referee._

 

Chapter 3: Definition

Of Monsters and Men- Wolves Without Teeth

“I am truly sorry about this,” Col. Rhodes apologized for the second time since their take off time had come and gone.

Angela waved him off. “It’s not a problem, Colonel. I’ve been working for Mr. Stark for over a decade.” The unspoken expectation of her boss’s lateness hung in the air.

She’d shown up at 4:30 in the morning to make the flight that was supposed to depart at 5:30. Even with a private jet, airport security took some time to get through. After greeting the Colonel, and making her way through her fourth cup of coffee for the day, she felt marginally more awake.

It was going to be a long flight. A nineteen hour plane ride, if they ever got off the ground. Of course, it was now after seven and there was still no sign of Tony Stark. Thank God she’d packed her laptop and charged her phone. She’d already called Pepper to wish her a happy birthday and watched two episodes of Storm Chasers.

Speaking of Pepper, the Colonel was getting ready to call her again. The military man was one Pepper counted as a friend, so Angela waved to get his attention. “It’s Pepper’s birthday,” she mentioned. Col. Rhodes smiled and nodded. The call connected. She could hear him wishing the red head well before asking the woman about their boss and his estimated arrival time.

That time turned out to be over an hour later when a pearl Audi screamed into the parking lot. It was followed shortly by Pepper’s husband Happy in his black car. Angela pulled her phone out and shot a quick text to Pepper, tattling on her husband’s race car driving. She was busy snickering at Pepper’s pithy text back so missed the majority of Col. Rhodes scolding of her boss.

“Well hello.” A smooth voice greeted her from just inside the doorway to the plane.

Angela managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “Hello, Mr. Stark. Glad you could join us.”

The man seated himself across from her and grinned. “How did I get so lucky as to have your company on this field trip?”

“Higher powers than I deemed it necessary I take in some desert air.” After a moment of deliberation she asked, “It wasn’t you, was it?”

He chuckled lowly. “Not my idea,” he informed her. “I thought our date was set for Tuesday.”

“Meeting, Mr. Stark,“ she corrected. If it wasn’t Stark who ordered her out then Stane must have deemed her presence necessary.

She turned her attention to Col. Rhodes joining them in the conference seating. He strapped in and Angela tried to patiently wait for take off to be over. Once they had leveled out, she could pull out her laptop and get down to the business of informing Mr. Stark about his missing weapons. Of course, by the time take off was over Stark’s attention was otherwise engaged.

“What you reading, platypus?” The man could stress a saint, Angela thought unkindly.

“Nothing,” Col. Rhodes flipped his paper over.

Angela took the moment to un-strap and go for her carry on. She dodged a blond stewardess who was setting up the table for a meal. Behind her she heard Stark continue on, “Come on sour patch. Don’t be mad. Panda’s not mad.”

The storage lid banged against the ceiling when she flipped it up with more force than necessary. She hated that nickname. It came from the first year she’d been working at Stark Industries. She was twenty four years old and trying like hell to make something of herself. Angela could also admit, that at the time, she had been unnerved by a man like Stark flirting with her.

“I told you. I’m not mad. I’m indifferent. Okay,” Col. Rhodes replied blandly.

Angela tugged out her bag and lugged it back over to the table they were at.

“I said I was sorry,” the billionaire complained.

Slipping between two stewardesses she sat back down. “Good morning, Mr. Stark,” one greeted.

Rhodes dropped his paper down and turned to Stark. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I’m your man,” he commented.

“Hi,” Stark replied to the stewardess. “I told him I was sorry but he…”

Rhodes cut him off. “I’m just indifferent right now.”

Trying to ignore the banter Angela pulled out her laptop and double checked she had her thumb drive. The trip was about to go downhill. She plugged it in and started organizing the documentation she had.

“Panda, I told him I was sorry,” Stark half whined.

She continued going through the documents without looking up. Sometimes it was better not to react, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. “Didn’t tell me you were sorry,” she muttered. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Stark open his mouth.

Rhodes saved her though. “You don’t respect yourself so I know you don’t respect me.”

“Hot towel?” A stewardess asked.

“I respect you,” Stark defended.

“I’m just your babysitter,” Rhodes continued over him. “So when you need your diaper changed,” the Colonel paused to thank a stewardess for a hot towel.

Angela waved the woman off with a half smile and a polite, “No, thank you.”

“Let me know and I’ll get you a bottle. Okay?” Rhodes finished.

Stark turned to the stewardesses. “Hey! Heat up the sake will you?” He turned back to the Colonel. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Angela sucked on her bottom lip. Everything was where it was supposed to be. Next came the fun part, breaking it to Mr. Stark that very bad things were happening with his company. Maybe she should let him get a little drunk first?

“Hey,” Rhodes protested. “No. I’m not talking, we’re not drinking. We’re working right now.”

“Mr. Stark,” Angela injected. On second thought drunk was probably not a good state to be in when told bad news. He would need to function in an official capacity. Not that being drunk had ever stopped him in the past.

“You can’t have sashimi without sake,” he declared, glancing over at her and raising an eyebrow. “I told you, Panda. It’s Tony.”

Rhodes shook his head. “You are constitutionally incapable of being responsible,” he complained.

“It would be irresponsible not to drink,” Stark protested.

Angela spun her laptop ninety degrees to face her boss.

He continued. “I’m just talking about a nightcap.” He leaned forward a little and glanced at the computer. “What’s this?”

“Hot sake?” A stewardess asked. Angela suppressed an eye roll at the constant interruptions.

Stark relaxed back. “Yes. Three please.”

“No,” the colonel denied. “I’m not drinking. I don’t want any.”

“I do,” Angela admitted. She ignored the betrayed look from Col. Rhodes. It was going to be a bad enough day. One couldn’t hurt.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Stark half cheered. “Panda knows.”

“Would you stop with the ridiculous nickname. Please.” She knew it came out sounding exasperated and begging. She couldn’t help it.

The stewardess poured them sake while Stark and Rhodes continued bickering.

Angela sipped her drink and let out an audible sigh. Best to be blunt so as to grab his attention. “Mr. Stark, someone is stealing your weapons,” she announced baldly. She sat back and waited.

Stark continued talking for half a comment before he trailed off. He coughed out a, “What?” The question was echoed by Colonel Rhodes.

Angela leaned around the laptop, pulling up several saved files of shipping receipts. She put on her most professional self and began her explanation. “I ran across the first irregularity two months ago and followed up with the Director of Inventory. Earlier this week, I found three new instances with the same pattern.” She pointed to the screen. “The shipping address and company name do not match.”

Stark was frowning and Rhodes had left his seat to crouch down on Stark’s side of the table.

Angela took another sip of sake. This time purely to wet her drying mouth. “When I looked up the original erroneous manifest, the address had been changed.” She didn’t feel the need to explain his own system’s redundancies for filing originals of mistakes for reference. “I had saved a screenshot of the original discrepancy on my computer. When I searched for it for reference, the file was gone. I saved a screenshot of these three,” she gestured to the images showing on her laptop, “On an external jump drive.”

“Did you follow up with Henz for these as well?” Stark was back in business mode for the moment.

Angela bit her bottom lip. “I admit, not that day. I decided to see if the documents would be changed again,” she explained.

When he looked up at her quizzically, she shrugged. “Paranoia after the Hammer Industries mole last year.”

“So these weapons went to the wrong address?” Rhodes asked.

“These weapons went to a deliberately changed address that was then changed back to a legitimate business address. A business that, by the way, did not order a shipment to begin with. I checked.” And to cover her bases she had.

“Further, the screenshots of these that I saved to my computer were likewise removed the next day.” Both men frowned. “I strongly suspect they were removed by Hoeft from IT. One of my team members saw him in my office that morning.”

“That’s bad,” Rhodes murmured.

“Yes,” Angela agreed. “My access to the shipping network was also revoked. I decided to switch my focus to the component database. If weapons were going missing,” she trailed off.

Stark finished for her, “Components would be easier.”

She made an agreeing noise and reached across to bring forward several more documents. “Here. An unusual number of out of speck casings with no record of follow through with Disposal. A large group of control actuator systems destroyed in an accident without documented follow up through Safety.” She moved forward another document with a long list of products. “Electronic components completely wiped from Inventory without explanation. Pressure vessels and rocket motor casings lost or damaged during shipment without appropriate forms being filled out.”

“You found all this?” The Colonel asked with an odd touch to his voice.

Angela chanced a glance at her boss and noticed his glare could melt her laptop screen. His temper could be formidable.

She finished the last of her sake and wanted another. “Yes. Once I went looking it was obvious whoever is responsible only made a token effort to cover their tracks.”

“No,” Stark drawled. His voice took on that supercilious tone he used when someone had really screwed up. “This is spread through disparate sections of my company; Inventory, Safety, IT, even Acquisition.”

With a bit of a hush in her voice, Angela entreated, “Look at the warhead list.” That was something she had found later in her search. It chilled her. She pulled up the file list she had made and a cascade of saved images opened behind it. The missing munitions were highlighted in each instance.

“Jesus,” Rhodes breathed in horror.

Angela knew her face was grim, but Mr. Stark’s was a rictus of fury. “I’m dealing with this now,” he growled.

Angela sucked in a breath. “Could you keep my name out of it?” She knew her voice wavered and sucked her lips in. “It’s…” She gestured to the screen, struggling to put her request into words. “Someone already took the time to hack my computer and erase the initial screen shots, twice. They know who accessed that information. The second time I didn’t bother with a memo, just kept it to myself until I could schedule a meeting with you. The earliest of which would have been Tuesday if my plans hadn’t changed to include this trip.”

Stark gave a short jerk of a nod and paced to the other end of the plane. She saw him pull his phone in front of his face and caught enough of the conversation to know he was talking with Mr. Stane.

Her eyes slid back to the Colonel who was still reading over the documents in front of them. His gaze flicked up to hers and held it. “Why did you dig so much?”

Angela blinked and furrowed her brow in confusion. “I design these weapons, Colonel. I know what they’re capable of.” And, Angela thought to herself, it galled her that someone would steal what she considered her intellectual property. That they then tried to make a fool of her, even peripherally, was not to be borne.

“Yes,” Rhodes nodded. “But you could have passed this on, or not gone full detective. That’s not your job, right?” He got up from his crouch and moved back to his seat.

“No,” Angela agreed turning towards him again. It wasn‘t her job. It was something she‘d taken on voluntarily. Admittedly, until she realized how serious the situation was it‘d mostly been a point of pride for her. She’d policed her department on some level since she’d started working at SI.

“But like I said I design these weapons. Having even components of them out there in unregistered hands is a catastrophe. You can’t tell me that everything that’s gone missing hasn’t ended up on the black market somewhere. That’s my tech in the hands of potential terrorists.” She felt a shudder run down her spine and felt sick to her stomach again. Angela swallowed back bile and acknowledged a grim hurtful truth. “People are going to die because of that.”

She reached over for the bottle of sake and refilled her cup. Rhodes held his own up and she obligingly filled it as well.

“Frankly?” Ahe turned to look questioningly at Rhodes and he gave a nod to go on. She allowed herself to lose her professional mien. “It pisses me off. And whoever did this is not smarter than I am,” she declared.

Rhodes sipped his sake and looked her over appraisingly. “You found the mole from Hammer Tech you mentioned, didn’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Angela felt slightly warm after finishing off her second cup of sake and responded to the Colonel by cocking a dark arrogant brow. “Not smarter than me,” she boasted with a dangerous edge.

Rhodes chuckled lightly.

“You have to understand, Colonel.” He interrupted her to ask her to call him Jim. In the background she could hear Stark clearly reaming someone out over the phone. She nodded and continued. “I work in a field dominated by men.”

The countless times she’d been dismissed or talked down to flashed through her mind. “I am always underestimated,” she bitterly admitted. “Often I have to work twice as hard just to be considered not slacking. It lends me towards situations like this, where I catch something no one else has simply because I always look harder at everything.”

Angela privately conceded she was nosy and always looking for an angle to exploit as well. She had also learned the hard way that if everyone hesitated to act then no one acted, and innocent people died in things like plane crashes.

Jim nodded, but then a shadow crossed his face. He refilled both their sake glasses. “You should be careful. Whoever did this is not going to be happy it was found out. Even if you’re name isn’t brought into it further, you mentioned they’re already aware the information was accessed by you.”

Angela blew a breath out and rubbed some hair out of her face. “I know. I took some precautions but,” she trailed off with a wave of her hand. Her throat ached in remembrance. “I know what happens to whistleblowers.”

Stark chose that moment to plop back down in his seat with them. “You got started without me. Platypus and Panda bear.” He ran a hand over his face tiredly. “Well Panda you already uncovered a shady arms conspiracy today. Staging a mutiny now?”

Rhodes shook his head in long suffering, but Angela felt her mouth run away with her again. She held up her cup and smirked. “This is only my fourth glass.”

A wan grin broke across Stark’s face. “Right.” He reached over and poured himself a drink. “Ladies,” he called out. “Let’s get this party started.”

……………………………….........................................................................

After her fifth cup of sake, Angela cut herself off and switched to water. The three of them were seated on the sofa built into the plane facing the stripper pole. She tilted her head to the side and watched the blond stewardess she side stepped earlier swing herself around said pole. Angela gave it a two out of five. It was a basic spin. She also recognized that even cut off, she was drunk.

Next to her Jim was going on about how the military had his back and how Tony was a better person than he thought he was. She could agree with that. Her boss was a good man deep down. What it would take to bring that to the surface regularly however, was beyond her.

Tony, drunk as he was, leaned forward around Jim. “This isn’t bothering you is it?” He asked her, gesturing out to the dancing stewardesses.

“Would it stop if I said yes?” She wondered.

He shook his head. “No.”

Angela blew a breath out her nose. She didn’t think so.

“Well maybe.” He reconsidered with a blink. “You could sue me,” he admitted. “Uncomfortable work environment or something.”

“It’s fine,” Angela rolled her eyes tiredly. She’d known the man long enough to recognize that, though a womanizer, Tony Stark did not wish harm.

“Really?” Jim had turned his attention to her as well now.

“I told you, Jim. I work in a field dominated by men. It was the same during college. Who do you think I hung out with?” She answered her own question. “It was engineering nerds. This is not my first strip show,” she admitted.

“Really?” Jim asked again. Angela glanced at him. He was really drunk.

“Really,” she answered. Then she gestured vaguely toward the blonde. “She has a two out of five for the spin she did a second ago. I’ve seen better pole work,” she admitted wryly.

Stark started laughing. “I like you when you’re drunk, Panda.” He gave her a salacious grin. “You want to demonstrate?”

Angela threw a long glare at her boss. Just because she knew he didn‘t mean it, didn‘t mean it didn‘t occasionally annoy her. “No.” It came out kind of childish.

Her boss laughed harder.

“Why’s he call you Panda?” Jim was slurring his words badly.

Angela sipped her water and held her silence, however Stark warmed to the subject. “The first time I toured weapons development after she was hired I found this little brunette with a cute…” He broke off when Angela ratcheted her glare up to nuclear levels. With a guffaw, he continued. “Anyway, I leaned in to see what she was working on.”

Angela chose to cut him off verbally. “You got into my personal space and reached around my side from behind me. I thought it was Sterns,” she grumbled.

“Sterns?” Stark titled his head. “He was Head of Weapons back then, right? The one we kept finding asleep on the job? He harassed you?” He seemed ruffled by the idea.

Angela waved a hand lazily. “Once. I elbowed him in the solar plexus.” She was still proud of that, even if it had turned the lab she was working in into a cold war at the time. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing she was proud of when it came to Sterns. HR hadn’t been the greatest at dealing with sexual harassment back then. She’d had to get creative. There was a reason they kept finding Sterns when he took his naps.

Stark winced. “Vicious bear,“ he mumbled. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

“Says the man who was just commenting on my cute something,” she pointed out.

“Yeah,” Stark shook his head, “But I wouldn’t touch you.”

For some reason this tripped Angela’s sense of humor and she snickered.

“I think that came out wrong,” Stark admitted.

“Sounded fine to me,” Angela snarked.

Stark cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he drew out peevishly. “She slapped my hand away and growled at me. Me, Rhodey.” He acted deeply wounded.

Jim chuckled loudly.

Stark continued. “She had these big dark sad eyes.”

Angela broke in. “He said I was like a bear, but a cute one with eye bags.”

“That’s not what I said.” He pointed a finger on the hand holding his drink at her.

“Close enough,” Angela sipped her water again. She was going to call it soon and go curl up in one of the chairs for awhile.

“So, Panda,” Stark finished with a gesture towards her.

“I hate that name,” Angela informed him.

It was quiet for a second. She realized her unfocused gaze had drifted back to looking at the strippers. Still not very good, she thought. After awhile of only hearing the music she turned back toward Jim to see him passed out. Angela felt her eyebrows raise. “He’s asleep,” she commented.

“Light weight.” Stark poured another glass of alcohol for himself.

Angela hummed, then stood and stretched. “He’s got the right idea.”

“Where you going?” Her boss blinked at her.

“Chair.” Angela pointed to the side of the room.

“Sleep on the couch. Hell, take the bed. You earned it today.” Stark opined. “Course, I could always join you,” he offered playfully.

Angela snorted inelegantly. “That’s not supposed to happen,” she snidely repeated his words.

He gave her a mock sad face. “I just want to cuddle,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes at him. “The chair will be fine.” While letting out a jaw cracking yawn, she took a few steps forward.

With more concentration than usual, she drew her cloak of professionalism around her and tapped the arm of a brunette stewardess dancing across the floor. “Excuse me.” When the stewardess turned to her Angela made sure her voice was very clear. “If I’m not already awake, could you please wake me up about an hour before we land?”

“Of course,” the brunette answered agreeably.

“Thank you.” Angela slunk across the floor, folded herself into a chair and closed her eyes. The reveal had gone about as well as she thought it would. At least she’d finally managed to hand off the entire ordeal.

……………………………….........................................................................

When Angela got off the plane at Bagram Air Force base, she greeted the General and assorted officers politely.

When Stark gave his spiel about the Jericho missile and demonstrated it, she was secretly awed something she had made had such destructive power. The feeling of a job well done swept through her as Angela answered a few technical questions.

When it was over and Stark insisted she ride with him in the ‘fun’vee,’ she almost declined.

“Come on, Panda,” Stark cajoled. “You don’t want to ride by yourself.”

Angela glanced at the humvee directly in front of the one Stark was riding in. Their escort had allotted space there for her. If she rode with her boss it would be tight. Five people in a four person vehicle was not ideal.

Jim had already gone ahead to join his transport and her military detail was getting restless with their delay. Angela sucked on her bottom lip, somewhat reluctant to be in a strange country on her own.

“I promise to behave myself,” Stark added.

“You never behave yourself,” Angela quipped back.

“So you should ride with me to keep an eye on me,” he wheedled.

She weighed the pros and cons. In the end, boss or not, she would be more comfortable traveling with someone she knew. “Fine,” she capitulated.


	5. Backs Against the Wall Part I

_Disclaimer: I don’t own Iron Man or Nine Inch Nails. I just banged the two together until they made sparks. I still need to buy a fire extinguisher, or maybe a flame retardant suit._

 

Chapter 4: Backs Against the Wall Part I

Nine Inch Nails- We’re In This Together

Tony didn’t remember being snatched from the desert floor after the blast. His last image from before the cave was of the robin’s-egg-blue sky above him before he slowly faded out.

When he came to again he was being half carried, half dragged, with a bag over his face. The toes of his shoes skimmed against something hard, causing his feet to bounce limply. A sharp, burrowing pain had settled into his chest, and with each rapid breath his lungs seemed to squeeze his heart.

Abruptly he was spun and shoved into a seat. The bag was yanked off his head and he blinked, squinting at the blinding light in front of him. Around him were several armed men of Arabic descent. When his eyes adjusted more to the brightness, he noticed the camera in front of him. Tony felt his stomach drop in terror.

A man near him faced forward and began reading a prepared script, but Tony didn’t understand the language. He recognized when they said his name though. Everything about the situation told him he was a terrorist hostage. A part of his mind wondered if they were the types of terrorists who hung people over fires or just shot them in the head.

There were guns shoved into his neck and he was forced to remain stationary during the man’s prepared speech. A few moments later he was manhandled back to his feet and marched along a corridor. His head swam and his chest clenched in pain. During one of the times his consciousness faded back in Tony had the time to notice the hasty bandages across his torso.

‘That’s right,’ he remembered. They’d been under fire and he’d run from the humvee. Angela had been right behind him. Then the missile had landed next to him in the sand. Tony had the time to recognize it while he bolted away from it in fear. He should be dead. That payload should have killed him. It had probably killed Angela. For a merciful moment he faded out again.

When he swam to consciousness again it was to pain. Blinding, searing, pain ripped through his chest. An involuntary cry bubbled up from his throat and spilled out of his mouth. He struggled against the many sets of hands holding him down. There were people around him talking and the bright lights seared his eyes.

They were cutting into his chest, over and over again. He couldn’t get away. He couldn’t fight them off. Underneath the disorientation and the pain was the vague idea they were skinning him alive, snipping away his muscle until he was hollow.

Agony raced through him again. The world went white, black, then shades of pink. It seemed like it would never end, and Tony thought he was in hell. He thought that he was already dead. He was dead, and Rhodey was dead, and Angela was dead.

After what seemed like an eternity, someone pressed a foul smelling cloth to his face and he reached for the darkness.

……………………………….........................................................................

There was no fading for Angela. One moment she was laying on her side in the desert sand, able to see her boss’s torso but not his face, then nothing.

She was jolted back into consciousness by someone shouting ‘Ma’am.’ It took a long time for her to connect the mode of address to herself. A flash went off in her mind of a young, nervous man. But it was a disconnected memory.

Her eyes cracked open and her gaze focused on the tan ground before her. Around her she could still hear an occasional burst of noise, but it seemed much quieter.

Someone in army gear had their hands on her. She could just make out the desert camo on their arms. Her mind whispered that the man was a combat medic and she was still on the side of the road. Angela tried to flex her fingers and toes, but a jagged bolt of pain shot up her extremities. She moaned. When she attempted to roll over despite the pain, the man above her held her in place.

“Ma’am, you need to remain still,” the medic cautioned. She felt him gently shifting her clothing before he suddenly barked, “Seebarth, get over here.”

Through the ground her body rested on she could feel the impact of hurried footsteps coming closer, then a thud. Another pair of hands joined the first. The two men were talking back and forth in quick truncated words, but she couldn’t process them. Things started to sound slow and distorted. She knew they were occasionally asking her questions, but she couldn't make sense of the words.

Pain lanced through her chest and sides. Angela heard a thin, breathless scream and realized belatedly that it was coming from her. The man above her repeatedly ordered her to stay awake, and then there was nothing.

……………………………….........................................................................

It seemed that it had been a moment, and yet a life time since he’d opened his eyes. He huffed a breath, his chest feeling heavy and sore. It was cold wherever he was, and dimly lit. The air smelled dank.

A few seconds after regaining consciousness Tony realized he was free, but weak. He moved his jaw slightly, feeling his lips pull apart reluctantly. His mouth was so dry his tongue felt thick and swollen. His lips cracked and burned.

Blearily he noticed the movement had pulled on something in his nose. He reached a hand down to his face. Fumbling fingers ran across a string or a tube of some sort, and it took far longer than it should have for him to realize that it ran into his nose. Disoriented, he started to pull it out, slow at first and then faster. He could feel it sliding up the back of his throat and down his nose. Tony moaned in disgust, ripping the last bit out and peeling the tape from his nostril.

Taking a few moments to calm down, he finally turned his head to the side and saw the cup sitting on the table even with him. Tony flexed his hands. They were freezing and slightly numb, but he made a grab for the cup anyway. In his haste he misjudged the distance and knocked it from the table. It clanged noisily to the floor, rolling away from him. The effort he expended made him cough harshly but it also drew his attention to the nearby canteen.

Before he could make up his mind to go for that he was distracted by the movement of a man across the room. The man was shaving while looking into a tiny hand mirror mounted on a pillar, and dressed in a pin stripe suit.

The need for water pulled Tony’s attention away from the puzzle of the man and back to the canteen. He heaved himself to his side, trying to grasp it, before a loud clank sounded.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the shaving man said in an accent Tony couldn’t identify.

Feeling a vague pull in his chest, Tony looked down, spotting the wires attached to him. Slowly he rolled back over, trying to find what he was tethered to. His eyes landed on the squat, black cube of a car battery and he froze. Disbelief and fear slid through him. Jerkily Tony gripped at the cables, willing them to be a hallucination. His numb fingers grasped at the cold rubber wires and then followed them to his chest. He scrunched his chin down and grunted.

What he saw couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be hooked up to a car battery. Things like that didn‘t happen to people. He pawed at the bandages over his chest with dumb fingers as his mind gibbered in horror.

There was a solid object underneath the dressings. He patted at the hard spot before digging his blunted nails in and tearing at the bandages. Vaguely he was aware of the trapped animal noises he was making, but his focus was on the need to see his chest.

With a final vicious pull, he ripped through the last of the wrapping and looked down. From the bottom of his vision he could see there was something large, circular, and metal embedded in his sternum. Shock speared him and his head dropped back to the table. He stared up at the shadowed ceiling blankly for several moments, wondering what the hell had they done to him.

……………………………….........................................................................

The first time she came to full consciousness it was the beeping that made her open her eyes. It seemed to take a long time for the ceiling and upper corner of the room to come into focus. A part of Angela’s mind noted that the light coming in through the window was a vibrant orange. A square of it shone on the wall further along and it looked like a pane of fire.

She drew in a slightly deeper breath and froze. Pain. Burning, clenching pain took over her world. For a moment her vision flashed white. Vaguely she was aware that another, louder alarm started going off.

The door to her room opened and a woman walked in. Angela was too busy trying to ground herself against the waves of agony to pay attention to the woman‘s words or what she was doing. There was a click, and then the woman next to her head was reassuring her that the morphine would kick in soon. Angela struggled to stay conscious.

Long moments passed as, one by one, she was able to uncoil her muscles. Both beeping noises stopped and there was more clicking. She had a fuzzy notion that the nurse was asking for someone to be paged. But her focus remained on her breathing and the patch of sunlight on the wall.

Finally, Angela’s wobbly vision firmed again and the claws that tore into her chest were blunted. A dragging lethargy and soreness took their place. She slid her tongue out to wet her lips futilely. “Water.” Her voice was a bare raspy whisper.

There was a low hum beneath her, and then the bed was shifting her further upright. A straw was placed to her lips and Angela gave a weak pull at it. The water was tepid but such a relief to her that she didn’t care.

More time was spent sipping the water and organizing her thoughts. The nurse was also speaking to her, telling her some things she knew and some she didn’t.

She was in a hospital. She was in an air force hospital in Italy. She’d had surgery. More would be explained about the surgery by a doctor later. It was Tuesday evening. Angela was given the date and realized that she’d been in Afghanistan two days before. She had a broken pinky, broken foot, contusions, and lacerations. And she shouldn’t have woken up yet.

There was a moment when Angela put together the desert, the explosion, and her list of injuries, with the fact that the nurse didn’t say she was lucky. Jim came in after that and Angela allowed her mind to be sidetracked.

“Hi,” Jim was dressed in fatigues instead of his blues.

Angela’s eyes tracked over him slowly. He had a split lip and a butterfly bandage on his eyebrow. “Hey, Jim.” This time her voice was stronger, but not by much.

The Colonel gave her a tight smile. “Glad you woke up. I’m just about to head back.”

Back? Angela wondered. Back where? But she found she already knew the answer to that so instead she asked, “Why?” Her thoughts where a little muzzy around the edges still.

She noticed some tension between him and the nurse before he spoke again. “Tony’s missing.”

Missing? Angela’s stomach gave a foul swoop and the alarm from earlier went off again. Not dead though. He had been right in front of her. “He was right in front of me.” Upon speaking her thoughts aloud she realized she was more out of it than she had thought. From the corner of her gaze she saw the nurse shoot Jim a glare.

Jim’s facial expression didn’t change. “Yeah. We thought so. Found his phone over there with a bunch of footprints, but by the time we could look he was gone and we had wounded.” He explained.

She was one of them. Others never made it off the sand. It hit her anew then, that the soldiers who were traveling with them were dead. That young man who had called her Ma’am, Jimmy, was dead. Before she could travel down that road of thought further Jim spoke again.

“Pepper contacted your relatives. You’re step-brother, Mike, should be here soon.” He reached out and carefully took a hold of her hand. At the idea her brother would be with her Angela felt herself calm some. The annoying beeping stopped again.

When Angela curled her fingers, she wrinkled her nose at the feeling of the IV taped to the back of it. She’d always hated IVs. No matter what they told her she could feel the needle in her vein. The clip on the finger of her other hand was uncomfortable as well. And she didn’t even want to think about the length of tubing she could feel against her thigh.

“I’ve got to get going. There’s been search parties out but I wanted to bring you back here first. You needed the best.” His voice was grim and mournful.

Angela blinked up at the Colonel, still trying to wade through the morass of information. She understood he needed to leave though. “Thank you, Jim.” She watched his eyes pinch around the edges. “Good luck.”

He released her hand with a pat. “Bye, Angela.” With a quick motion, he turned away. She kept her eyes on his back as he walked through the door, and then spent a few moments staring into the hall after him.

Memories engulfed her, flashes of the soldiers as they went down. Then clear and so real it was like reliving it, the image of Tony Stark scrambling out from behind a boulder. In the sand across from him was a Stark Industries FGM-96 Reaper. Angela felt her breathing shorten and the alarm, that she could now connect to a cardiac monitor, went off for a third time.

“Miss. Harper, I know this must be a trying day, but we need you to try to calm down,” the nurse intoned soothingly.

Angela looked at the woman as if the nurse had lost her mind. Calm down? She designed the Reaper. She knew what it did. Anger washed through her towing terror in its wake. The nurse had said something about surgery. Okay, maybe Angela did need to calm down. She didn’t have all the information yet.

Falling back into old familiar habits Angela tried to distance her mind from the issues, to insert a glass wall between her and her annoyance. It wasn’t working and only served to increase her agitation. “I’d like to speak with my Doctor now,” she tried to keep the demand polite.

“We’d like you to have some more rest, and your family here,” the nurse informed.

Angela cut the prevaricating nurse off with a glare, even though it hurt. It did make the heart rate alert cease though. “I want information about the surgery you performed on me and I want it now,” she bit out coldly.

The tidy brunette nurse blinked at her a few times, taken aback by Angela’s forcefulness. Angela just kept up the glare she used with developers who were under performing because they were lazy. It was a steely feeling, that did not smother her other emotions like usual.

When the woman continued to stand there Angela finally sniped, “As I was the one who designed the weapon that injured me, I believe I can say with authority that this case may be time sensitive.” The nurse jolted and then nodded. “Then my Doctor? Now, please.” Angela gritted the repeated request out from between her teeth.

As she watched the woman leave the room Angela counted her breaths. She knew, in the same way that she’d known it was bad when the nurse didn’t say she was lucky, and when Jim had said goodbye, that those same breaths were numbered.

……………………………….........................................................................

By the time Tony was able to sit up on his bed the shaving man had become the cooking man. The man whistled as he prepared something in a pan over the fire.

“What the hell did you do to me?” Tony asked when he finally found his voice. It came out as more of a whisper than he wanted.

The man across from him seemed unperturbed. “What I did?” He sat down the pan he was using and looked over at Tony. The lenses of his glasses flashed in the low light. “What I did is to save your life. I removed all the shrapnel I could.” The man crossed the cave, pulled the mirror from the pillar and handed it to Tony. Once the man moved back to the fire, Tony angled the glass down so he could see the thing in his chest. “But there’s a lot left,” the elder man continued. “And it’s headed into your atrial septum.”

The shrapnel was moving into his heart, Tony realized. Before he could fully process that thought the man spoke again.

“Here, want to see?” The man asked lightly, and then reached over and plucked a small glass bottle from a nearby table. He held it up, giving it a brief shake. Something inside it jingled pleasantly against the glass. “I have a souvenir. Take a look.” The man casually tossed the vial to him.

Tony caught it one handed. But instead of examining it immediately he continued watching the older man in the glasses, trying to figure out who he was and if he was dangerous.

“I’ve seen many wounds like that in my village.” The man began to explain nonchalantly. At his words Tony held the bottle up against the light, turning it so he could see the tiny barbs inside. “We call them the walking dead because it takes about a week for the barbs to reach the vital organs.”

Design specs flashed through Tony’s memory. The Stark Industries Reaper was an individually fired fragmenting missile designed for surface attack where a maximum number of casualties was desired. It was Angela’s design. Tony was already dead, he was just waiting for it to catch up with him.

There was a flash of anger, but it fizzled when he remembered the absolute horror in her eyes when she’d looked from the bomb to him. He remembered that she had been only feet from him at the time and still running towards him. In a muffled way he wondered if she was already dead. Judging by the amount of hair he could feel on his face, he should already be dead.

Tony glanced back down at the thing in his chest. “What is this?” He asked. His patience was slipping away from him.

The man had moved back to cooking but turned to look over his shoulder at Tony. “That is an electromagnet, hooked up to a car battery, and it’s keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart.” The man watched Tony’s face through his explanation and hummed to himself at the end.

Tony dropped his gaze for a moment as his mind spun through the implications. An electromagnet would work, so long as the battery did. If it died, he died. He cracked his neck in discomfort at his vulnerability and zipped his jacket up to cover the magnet. His eyes drifted up, catching on the camera set into the wall at the corner. Dread stilled his body. The man at the fire noticed his stiff posture and smiled easily.

“That’s right. Smile.” Tony noted the man said it with a fatalistic humor in his voice. “We met once, you know, at a technical conference in Bern.”

“I don’t remember,” Tony mumbled distractedly. He started looking around the small dark room he was being kept in. He needed to get out. Whatever was going on at the moment could only be bad and Tony needed to escape before it got worse.

“No, you wouldn’t.” The man continued voice faintly reproving. “If I had been that drunk, I wouldn’t have been able to stand, much less give a lecture on integrated circuits.” The man said the last part with a bit of hesitation, as if he was reaching into his memory for the detail.

Tony glanced around once more before asking. “Where are we?”

Before the suited man could answer there was a clang from the doors across the room. A harsh male voice speaking a foreign language followed. Tony could tell the voice was calling something into the room’s occupants, orders most likely.

The suited man crossed quickly to Tony and grabbed his arm, guiding him off the bed. Tony startled. He wasn‘t used to being manhandled.

“Come on, stand up. Stand up!” The man commanded. He leaned in urgently toward Tony. “Just do as I do.” He put his hands up over his head. “Come on, put your hands up,” he urged.

Tony took in the earnest energy radiating from the man and slowly raised his hands to rest his palms on his head. A moment later the heavy metal door of their cell opened and men came into the room. They were carrying weapons he recognized.

“Those are my guns. How did they get my guns?” He asked in confusion, slightly dropping his arms. A dim section of his mind remembered Angela’s show and tell from the plane. Was this a part of that?

“Do you understand me?” The suited man questioned him sternly. “Do as I do.”

Tony readjusted his hands on his head and shut up.

In front of them a short heavy set man with a beard took center place in the room. He held his hands out and called out what sounded like a greeting. The man seemed exuberant as he walked down a few steps into the room.

Tony could pick up his name again, and glanced unsurely at the suited man next to him. The people holding them knew exactly who he was then. That was very bad. And they had spent the effort to keep him alive. Tony wondered if it was just for ransom.

The man with the beard continued speaking as he crossed to only a few feet in front of them. When he seemed to finish he made an expectant gesture to the man next to Tony.

“He says, ‘Welcome, Tony Stark, the most famous mass murderer in the history of America.’” The suited man, his apparent fellow prisoner, intoned gravely.

Tony's gut churned in apprehension. The bearded man in front of him began to speak again.

“He is honored,” the elder man added.

His heavy bearded captor continued talking. Tony caught the word Jericho and felt all the moisture, again, leave his mouth. He swallowed roughly.

“He wants you to build the missile,” the man next to him continued. Tony already knew what they wanted with just that sentence. Again the heavy set man spoke and the suited man translated. “The Jericho missile that you demonstrated.”

‘No,’ Tony thought. There was no way he could build that kind of destructive tech for terrorists. A small part of him was glad Angela wasn’t there with him. At least, and horror spread through him but it was twisted with anger, he didn’t think so. She was a weapons designer. They could have taken her too. It would have been a matter of only a few steps down the hill.

The heavy set man held out a picture to the suited man. His cell mate took it and then held it out to Tony. “This one,” he said quietly.

Tony’s eyes flicked from the expectant group of terrorists in front of him to the nervous man beside him, and knew there was only one answer he could give. Anger and defiance rose up within him. “I refuse.”


	6. Backs Against the Wall Part II

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, although it is an awesome name for a band. I also do not own Tony Stark aka Iron Man. I just hot glued them together in boredom. I also accidentally hot glued my hand to my computer. I think I might need to buy some rubbing alcohol…online. And then convince the delivery guy to hand it to me through the window._

 

Chapter 5: Backs Against the Wall Part 2

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club- Done All Wrong

Ten minutes after the nurse left and twenty before the doctor showed up, her brother strode into the room. For a moment all she could focus on was the way his broad shoulders and tall frame seemed to fill up the entryway of her room. When she snapped herself out of her worries enough to take in his face, she noticed how haggard he looked. In his left hand he was carrying a bunch of Gladiolas nestled in a pretty, clear vase. It felt like an omen.

Upon seeing her awake he froze, and the two siblings stared at each other.

“Hey,” Angela finally greeted. She’d managed to get her hand to support the cup of water, but it was empty. “Can you fill this?” She tipped the Styrofoam cup at him.

Mike gave a little shake of his head, and Angela noticed that his blue eyes were overly bright. “I get a call in the middle of the night, fly all the way to Italy, and the first thing you do is ask me to be you’re fetch and carry boy?” He asked gruffly.

“This surprises you?” Angela allowed a grin to curl her lips.

He snorted, and set the vase down on the little table suspended over her lap. Big, rough hands took the cup from her, then Mike turned his back and busied himself at the in-room sink. When he handed her the refilled glass, he was, once again, composed. “How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” Angela answered truthfully. She bit her lip and frowned. Moving her facial muscles was starting to hurt less, but she could still feel the tightness of swelling along her left cheek and jaw.

Briefly, she wondered if she should tell Mike what she suspected. Would it soften the blow or only make it worse? In the end she sipped her water and held her silence.

When the doctor came, it actually ended up being a team of doctors, though only one surgeon. The short, gray haired man explained that they’d done an operation to remove the shrapnel that they could, and then gave them the news.

There were several barbs that were unreachable in her chest. That wasn’t exactly the way the elder man put it. He trotted out an x-ray and explained what he had seen during the initial surgery in highly technical terms. When speaking about the next surgery they wanted to do, he used phrases like percentage of mortality, and P5 classification, that turned Mike white.

It all worked out the same in Angela’s mind. They were saying she was going to die if they didn’t operate again. And underneath all the medical speak, they were telling her she was going to die if they did.

Angela numbly thanked them and let them know she‘d make her decision after speaking with her family. When the group of white coats filed out, she turned back to her brother. Mike was quietly weeping. He had his hand up covering his face, but she could hear the hitches of his breath. It reflexively made her want to tear up too.

Eventually, she tore her eyes away from him and tried to be practical. It was easier to think of it as a problem to solve, a list of things she needed to do. She raised a hand and wiped at a few tears that slipped out anyway.

Twenty four to forty eight hours before she either made the choice to die on the operating table, or the shrapnel made the choice for her. Angela had never noticed there was quite so much she wanted to do with her life until she had hours left of it. A feeling of failure swept through her. What had her life amounted to?

She’d pushed her way through school, then pushed her way through work. She’d chosen a career where she had thought she could make a positive difference with the talents she had. Instead, she found that she was a woman who had spent her life making things that killed people. Some of those people were innocent people.

Angela realized that her only legacy was a body count, and that it would contain her. She closed her eyes and flexed her jaw in regret. The two siblings sat in mournful silence.

In her head, Angela tried to compile a list of practicalities to take care of. Most of it had been arranged after her parents had died. Mike would need to be able to find the paperwork though. She supposed it would actually be him that ended up taking care of things.

Looking back over at Mike, Angela found that he was already grieving her. She watched her baby brother, blood or no, and felt so terribly sad for him. He’d lost so much in the past few years: their parents had died in the crash, Evelyn’s mother and father had passed in quick succession a year after that, then Grandma Harper. Now she was going to leave another hole in his life, and the way she was going out it was almost as if she had committed suicide. It seemed her brother was a magnet for grief.

Every muscle in Angela’s body froze in sudden revelation. Her mind, as it had always done, sped ten steps ahead and kept right on running. The idea forming in her head was mad. It was desperate and outside the realms of normal thinking. A conversation with Mike not so long before came back to her. The human body was all just machinery after all. With sudden certainty, Angela knew what she had to do.

“Mike,” she whispered. “I think I’ve finally gone crazy.” Because what she was thinking about doing to herself was crazy.

Her brother looked up at her, then in an embarrassed motion drew some tissues from nearby and blew his nose. “Oh, Genie.” He stood, crossed the room to sit next to her bed, and grabbed her hand.

“I need you to go over some things with me,” she started. Her brows furrowed slightly as the object she was mentally designing came a bit more into focus. It was laughably simple, actually.

“Of course,” he murmured.

She was pretty sure they weren’t thinking about the same things. “I’m going to die without the surgery.”

Mike miserably nodded and his shoulders trembled. She saw his forehead wrinkle as he fought to stay steady for her.

Angela needed him with her so continued gently. “Is your opinion on the surgery that it will kill me?” A part of her mind recognized the cruelty in her pushing, but she could fix it once she‘d fixed herself.

Mike immediately shook his head. “We have to try, Genie. At this point anything…”

Angela cut across him. “No. I need your professional opinion, Mikey. Because I might have an alternative.”

Her brother scrunched his ridiculously red eyebrows, the one‘s she‘d spent their childhoods teasing him about. “There is no alternative.”

“For a doctor,” she cut in again. It was enough to draw him up short.

Angela wondered if she had that gleam in her eyes that Evelyn used to say proceeded one of her ‘left field ideas’ that ‘somehow work out.’ The way Mike was looking at her, she thought she must have.

“For a doctor?” He repeated in question.

Angela was still locked in place, barely moving her lips, as if motion would break the thread connecting her to her idea. “Hear me out, Mikey. This is going to sound insane.”

“I think you’re entitled to some crazy,” he said carefully.

She bit her lip and tried to find the best place to begin. When things were really important though, she‘d always been blunt. “If I was solving this as an engineer, I’d use a magnet.” He blinked incredulously at her. “If there are loose bits of metal that could damage a machine with moving parts, and you can’t reach the bits, then you fish them out with something that attracts them.”

Mike was quick to point out, “The damage that would cause to you system would be enormous.” She was relieved to see that having a problem to work on was drawing him from his mourning. “You might as well have the surgery. A magnet could never be maneuvered in such a way as to position the pieces for surgical removal.”

“What if I didn’t use it to remove the bits, but instead to lock them in place?” She ventured.

He shook his head in doubt. “Keep them in your body?”

Angela nodded in reply. “They didn’t say the barbs themselves being in my body were a problem, more that the barbs would migrate into my heart. It’s what they’re designed to do after all,” she finished wryly.

There was a moment between them where they both acknowledged that the thing killing her was something she created. So, she was already Dr. Frankenstein. It made her feel a little better about her venture into mad science.

“It would have to be an electromagnet. I‘d need to be able to fine tune the strength of it. It would have to be close to the shards too.” Angela lost herself a bit in thinking through her problem. She did some quick calculations and then muttered, “It would probably have to be in my chest.”

“In?” Mike’s voice raised in incredulity. Angela looked back over at her brother to see him gaping at her in an unflattering way. “You’re right.” He sounded angry. “You’re crazy. Get the surgery, Angela.”

“The one that’s going to kill me?” She asked pointedly. She knew how her idea sounded, but she also knew that it would work.

Mike stood up but didn’t let go of her hand. “It’s the best option you have,” he argued.

Angela lifted her shoulders a fraction off the bed, ignoring the resurgence of pain. “No. It’s not. Less than five percent,” she reminded him of the figure the doctor gave them on her chances for survival. “That was a guess and you know it,” she accused. “They don’t do these surgeries for people because the people who usually need them are in places like Afghanistan, and they would never end up in an appropriately equipped hospital in time.”

Mike finally dropped her hand and paced away from the bed.

“I guarantee this base has everything I would need to make a fitting electromagnet,” she continued.

“You’re on morphine.” He ran a hand through his hair and paced back toward the bed.

“Comparatively the surgery to implant the necessary socket for housing would be minor.” Angela kept pressing her point.

He continued talking as if she hadn‘t been, “And you’re grieving. You’re dealing with your mortality.”

He was wound up in his own thoughts and Angela needed his attention. To get it, she slapped a hand on the table across her lap and overturned the vase of flowers. It rolled toward the edge but stopped before it fell to the floor. “You know I have solved more complex problems than this. Are you so ready to give up on me?”

He finally stopped his pacing, but his face had taken on the unflattering blush of his anger. “I am trying to not shout at you.” His voice was carefully modulated. “Because I understand you have had a lot thrown at you in the past few hours. But you are talking about something that is impossible,” he stressed.

“Not impossible.” She shook her head, feeling calm steel over her. “Not for me.” His blue eyes bored into her as if to call her bluff. Angela saw his jaw twitching. “I can do this,” she insisted. And she was stone cold serious.

Angela knew, he knew, that if she followed hospital advice she was going to die. Her plan was the way. Everything she knew from almost twenty years of engineering said it would work. It would buy her the time she needed for the next step. She decided to remind him about that.

“One or two days are all I have left. What I want to do may sound crazy, but it’s the only thing that’s going to buy me the time I need.” Mike gave her a skeptical look. “Maybe in a few years medical technology will be better and the surgery will have less of a risk. But I’m not going to know that unless I live that long. This will let me live that long.”

She was stretching the truth, but her brain had already run ahead. Angela knew what she needed to accomplish her goal. Like many times in the past, she was not going to be sorry for pushing to get it. Mike was the first hurdle. He wasn’t going to be the highest, and she had to get moving.

After a prolonged period of silent stand off between the two of them, Mike broke. A part of her was relieved. Another part of her was disgusted with herself. “What kind of casing would you use?” He asked.

“Stainless,” she answered easily. Angela reached out and righted the vase, though the water had leaked onto the floor. “Can you get me the paper and pen over there, please? I need to do some design.”

“Fetch and carry,” Mike muttered. There were other words under his breath but she chose to ignore them. Angela needed to nail down a design before she continued pushing forward. Once that was done, she was going to call Pepper Potts. She’d need some weight behind her to get anywhere with the professionals around her. Her first choice of back up was unfortunately still lost in the desert.

Angela took a moment to reaffirm that thought. He was lost, not dead. Because maybe if Angela could beat the odds, so could the man who was even crazier than she was.

……………………………….........................................................................

After his refusal, Tony noted that the expressions on the men across from him clearly said that they understood some English. One of them came forward and roughly grabbed him by the collar. Another man shoved his battery into his arms, and then they dragged him from the room into the hallway. Behind him the door to the cell clanged closed. It was an ominous sound to his mind.

In the press of men, Tony didn’t have a chance to get his balance. He bounced off their shoulders and shuffle stepped when they pushed him. The smell of unwashed bodies and sweat assaulted him, as the lights and hall swam past quickly.

Within moments of his refusal he was forced to his knees in front of a large, dark tub of water. In quick jerks they pulled his arms carelessly behind his back. His battery thudded to the ground, and his eyes widened in dawning understanding. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, a man behind him latched on to the back of his neck and forced him headfirst into the tub.

Instinct caused him to thrash. The water was freezing, stabbing at his eyes and running up into his sinuses. Thick fingers tightened mercilessly on his neck, their short nails biting into his flesh. No matter how he fought, Tony couldn‘t tear himself free.

His time in the water was stretched by his terror. Eventually his lungs unwillingly contracted, blowing the air out in bubbles on either side of his face. The burning in his chest was edging on unbearable by the time they pulled him back out.

Shoulders heaving, he panted in shock. His eyes rolled wildly in panic, catching on the faces of the men around him. There was one in particular, a stern faced, clean shaven, bald man, who seemed out of place. The man sat on the edge of the group, placidly watching the torture unfold in front of him. Before Tony could take more than a few gasping breaths he was shoved back into the water.

His back and neck muscles strained, trying to bring his head above the surface. Knowing what was happening, Tony tried to hold his breath longer the second time. At some point, someone hit him in the ribs and the air went out of him again. It seemed they held him under longer that time. His chest spasmed and his head swam dizzily. Finally he was pulled back again. More shouting surrounded him and a shorter break.

The third time they pushed him into the water all his muscles bucked and fought, but he was weaker. Tony was light headed, his consciousness fading in and out. Something jolted him and a flash of his electromagnet flew in front of his eyes. He heard someone call his name, a female. Pepper? Angela? Then he was choking in the cold water, his eyes fluttering spastically in his head. Another image flashed in his mind, one of the arc reactor at his plant in Malibu.

Finally, the hand on the back of his neck pulled him out and he coughed violently. Water streamed from his nose and ears. It bubbled up from his throat. Tony sagged against the side of the tub, gagging, only the hands of others supporting him.

He was yanked to his feet. The battery was shoved back into his arms and water from his face dripped along the top of it. Tony glanced down in worry before a bag was pulled back over his head.

The men pushed him down a different section of hallway and he stumbled on the uneven rock. Through the burlap he could see a dim light ahead of him. When they finally stopped shoving him forward and ripped the hood off, he was blinded.

Tony closed his eyes hard at the stabbing pain, then slit his eyelids until his pupils adjusted. In front of him two steep mountains lay, beyond them what looked like more. All along the base of the nearest mountains were camouflage, and below that were weapons and men. His stomach clenched at the amount of supplies and manpower they had.

Far ahead of him, down in the walkways between the makeshift shelters, the bearded man waited. He beckoned them with a hand and a man next to Tony slapped his shoulder to get him moving. Tony clutched the battery in his arms, stumbling down the decline behind a group of men. One of them braced him with an arm to keep him from falling.

He made it to the sandy ground and turned his head from side to side, mentally cataloguing all the Stark Industries weapons these people had. Angela had been right, he thought. This was huge. This was what she had found buried in missing forms and lost orders. His shock burned away when he found himself stopping in front of his bearded captor.

Anger caused his jaw to clench. These people had his weapons, weapons he had created to protect the soldiers of the US military. His feelings of rage and violation grew a few more notches. But so did his fear.

In front of him the bearded man spoke with a gesture. The man in the suit and glasses from earlier stepped up beside him again.

“He wants to know what you think,” the man translated.

Tony felt his facial expression lock in a way it hadn‘t since his parents funeral. “I think you have a lot of my weapons,” he answered quietly.

The bearded man spoke some more, gesturing grandly. He walked around behind Tony, his voice ringing through the valley. Tony recognized it as partial theater for the men ranged around the camp. Again he picked out the word ‘Jericho.’

“He says they have everything you need to build the Jericho missile,” the suited man said gravely.

Tony felt his brow furrow and his lips part as he considered his options.

“He wants you to make a list of materials,” his cell mate continued lowly.

The bearded man again spoke, staring at Tony with his head cocked to the side.

“He says for you to start working immediately, and when you’re done, he will set you free,” the translator finished.

The bearded man tilted his chin and held out his hand.

Tony felt the sun warm the wet hair on his head. If he refused their offer they would torture him again, with something worse than a few hits and drowning. Though his face stayed immobile, his insides churned. He was powerless. He couldn’t face the amorphous shadow of renewed torture, but the idea that they would simply release him was laughable. Calculating the outcomes, Tony pasted on his best fake publicity smile and took the bearded man‘s hand. The two men shook. “No, he won’t,” Tony commented fatalistically.

“No,” the suited man agreed. “He won’t.”

Across from them the heavy set man with the beard smiled. Tony gazed along the gathering of men in the camp and saw the bald man from earlier, perched on the top of a rock further away, watching him.

……………………………….........................................................................

He’d been given a hat and a few heavier clothes once he seemed to be cooperating. Tony sat next to the fire, lost in a mix of anger and despair. The suited man walked behind him, talking.

“I’m sure they’re looking for you, Stark. But they will never find you in these mountains.” He moved around to sit across from Tony, closer to the flames, before continuing. “Look, what you just saw, that is your legacy, Stark.” He paused for a breath. “You’re life’s work in the hands of those murders,” he spat.

Not just his life’s work, Tony thought to himself. It was Angela’s, and Obie’s, and Pepper’s. It was the combined efforts of all the other people who worked at his company because they thought they were doing what was right. Somehow everything had slipped through his fingers. He’d fumbled it for them and let this happen. Tony had never realized there were quite so many people counting on him before.

The man in the suit leaned toward him. “Is that how you want to go out?”

Tony felt as if his face was set into stone. He couldn’t do anything to fix the situation. They had so many of his weapons and he had no way of escaping.

“Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark?” The suited man mocked. “Or are you going to do something about it?” He prodded.

“Why should I do anything?” Tony mumbled angrily. “They’re going to kill me, you, either way.” It was the truth. He had almost zero chance of getting out on his own. Anyone looking for him would never find him. “And if they don’t,” he continued, “I’ll probably be dead in a week.”

The battery would last that long, maybe. Tony was going to die in a cave in the desert, and the only thing he would be remembered for was a body count.

“Well, then,” the suited man said softly. “This is a very important week for you, isn’t it?”

He didn’t know what it was about that moment. Maybe it was having such a bald time limit put on his life. Maybe it was the man’s words about his legacy. Maybe it was the thought that he’d let so many people he actually cared about down. Whatever the cause, something clicked together in Tony’s mind.

The electromagnet and the arc reactor fused into one, and equations starting shooting off like the sparks from the fire he was in front of. He felt his eyes widen and hope screamed through his being so forcefully that it hurt. The idea forming in his head was mad, but not impossible, not for him. With crushing certainty, Tony knew what he had to do.


	7. Climbing Up Hill

_Disclaimer: Don’t own Iron Man. Don’t own Limp Bizkit. Don’t ask what sugar filled dream made me slap the two together and call them pancakes. Just accept I didn’t buy enough syrup._

 

Chapter 6: Climbing Up Hill

Limp Bizkit- Lonely World

Angela had already done the time conversion in her head. It was noon in Malibu. Pepper Potts was bound to be busy.

She bit her lip as the phone rang, knowing that the woman was probably on the look out for a call from Italy. “Potts,” Angela heard the red head answer.

“Hey, Pep,” she greeted lowly.

From the other end of the line there was a sharp intake of breath. “Angela.” Someone in the background on Pepper’s end asked a question and the red head was quick to reply, “Excuse me. I need to take this.” The declaration was followed by the sound of hurried heels and a door closing. “Oh my God, Angela. Are you okay? What’s going on?” Her friend’s words rushed over each other.

Angela grinned. It was good to hear another familiar voice. “Breathe, Pep,” the brunette counseled. “I’m still at the hospital in Italy. Thanks for getting a hold of Mike for me by the way.”

Mike shook his head. Angela pursed her lips and made a shoo motion toward him. His part of the plan involved gathering up the team of doctors again.

“As for how I’m doing?” She shifted her grip on the hospital phone. “Not so great, but I think you might be able to help.”

“Help?” Pepper questioned. “Of course. SI is behind you. It‘s the least we can do after…” She struggled for words before finishing lamely, “After what happened.”

Angela nodded to herself. That was the expected company line. “You might want to hold off on promising me things until you hear me out. Are you sitting down?”

There was a slight pause before Pepper answered, “I am now.”

“Good.” Angela steeled herself. “I need you to keep an open mind,” she cautioned.

“Okay,” the other woman drew out nervously.

After a moment of trying to come up with a gentle way to tell Pepper what was going on, Angela opted for bluntness again. “I have shrapnel embedded in my chest from the attack.” The other end of the phone remained in expectant silence. “It’s from a Reaper. I don’t know if you’re aware of the design specs, but the barbs are made to migrate to the organs over a short period of time.” Angela couldn’t help but close her eyes briefly in self recrimination.

“I’ve already had surgery and the doctors were able to remove several of the pieces. But there are a handful that are positioned awkwardly and very close to my heart. Left as they are, they’ll kill me.” She winced when she heard Pepper start to sniffle. “The hospital wants to perform another surgery, but the odds of me surviving it are infinitesimal. I have a better solution and that’s where I need your help,” she finished.

“Anything,” Pepper choked out. “What do you need? What can I do?”

At Pepper’s immediate and unequivocal answer, Angela stifled a few sniffles of her own. She dashed a hand across her face to wipe away stray tears and looked up at the ceiling to gather herself. “I told you to hold off on promising me things until you hear me out,” she tried to joke.

“I don’t care,” Pepper insisted wetly. Angela could hear the red head steady her breathing before asking, “What’s your solution?”

A nervous laugh slipped from Angela before she explained. “We can’t get the barbs out so I’m going to lock them in place using an electromagnet. The catch is that for the magnetic field to be strong enough the device would have to be implanted in my chest.”

There was a prolonged silence on the other end of the phone before Pepper breathed, “That’s insane.”

“I’m hearing that a lot.” Angela found it in herself to chuckle. “I’m not a doctor, but you know Mike is a heart surgeon with the Cleveland Clinic. He believes this may work. I won him over.” That wasn’t entirely true. She’d bullied him into it and she had every intention of doing the same with Pepper. That probably made her a horrible person. “Do I need to spend time convincing you as well?” She asked impatiently.

“There has to be another way,” Pepper argued.

“There’s not.” Angela shook her head in denial. She didn‘t have room for doubts. In her mind time was like a loosely chained beast. “The doctors say I have twenty four to forty eight hours before the shrapnel works its way into my heart.” Screwing up her face and pulling out the big guns, Angela pushed. “Can you not just take it on faith from someone who Mr. Stark has let work in his private lab?” She knew that Pepper understood everything implied about her by that question.

There were several more beats of silence from Pepper‘s end of the call. “That was harsh,” she reprimanded quietly.

Angela grimaced. It had been. It had also been blatantly manipulative and in bad taste to capitalize on her missing boss’s name with his distraught assistant. Angela was running on a cruel mixture of desperation and hope but she was still talking to Pepper. “Sorry,” she added, hoping to soften her hard line sell.

The red head gave a long sigh. “You’re not. But you’re not wrong.” There was another pause before Pepper admitted quietly, “You sound a little like him when his patience is worn particularly thin.”

At the soft admission Angela’s lips twisted in melancholy. “I’ve never heard him sound quite this crazy.”

Pepper laughed, but it still sounded sad. “Oh, he has. And it’s worked out too. If anyone besides him could make what you’re describing work, it would be you.” Angela pictured the other woman shaking her head. “I’m on board.”

Thank God Pepper was the PA of the boss. No one else but someone who dealt with insane genius on a regular basis would have capitulated so quickly.

Angela drew in and released a deep breath. “Great. Because I think I’m going to need to fight my way through the base doctors and maybe the military as well,” she confessed.

“Well, first we need to get a lawyer to you. In person would be better but video conference will do. The first thing they’ll probably try to do is declare you unfit to make decisions,” Pepper advised. She was back in business mode.

“Mike has medical power of attorney and he’s on my side,” Angela let the red head know. “It’s attached to my records.”

“Good. That will help.” Pepper hummed in thought. “The best leverage would be to let the air force know you plan to go ahead with the operation outside of their jurisdiction if you can’t within it.”

“Okay,” Angela agreed dubiously. “But I don’t think any other hospital is going to allow me to do the procedure either. There’s also the matter that the current hospital may refuse to release me,” she pointed out.

“Well,” Pepper drawled, “You would have to sign waivers to absolve SI of liability, but we could set up a private operating suite at the penthouse in Venice.”

Angela felt her jaw loosen in shock. That was above and beyond what she‘d hoped for.

The red head continued. “Of course the ideal situation would be for the air force to recognize the threat for what it is, and allow you to do the procedure where you are.”

This was why she had called Pepper Potts. Some sad, ill informed, people believed she was only Tony Stark’s personal assistant. But the reality was that the woman was wicked smart, with backbone and loyalty to spare.

Angela felt such a wild surge of hope that she found herself fighting not break into hysterics. She took a long, steady breath through her nose. It wasn’t the time, she couldn‘t afford to break down yet. “I recognized early in planning that I, and possibly my next of kin, would need to be willing to absolve everyone of liability. I’m more than willing to do so.” She hesitated for a moment then asked, “Could you honestly set up the Venice penthouse as an operating theater?”

Pepper gave a weak chuckle. “It’s one of Mr. Stark’s contingency plans in case of an accident in any of his in-house shops. With the timeline you gave me and the organization required it would be a close thing, but it would be better than nothing.”

“Bless the boss,” Angela mumbled. She hoped it went out into the universe to reach the lost man.

“Yes,” Pepper agreed. “As for your current hospital being unwilling to release you, leave that to the SI lawyers. I’ll get started on pulling a team from legal and Tony’s personal lawyers.”

“Pep,” Angela breathed. “Thank you so much.” Mentally she checked off several items on her to do list.

“Just make this work, Angie,” the red head ordered. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

“It’ll work,” Angela assured. It had to work. In an effort to relieve some tension and cheer up her friend she added, “The boss isn’t gone, he’s just missing. I will continue to deny he’s gone until he’s been buried for at least ten years.” The man had his own sense of time and a love of attention. He would probably enjoy seeming to come back from the dead.

Pepper laughed. “Thank you. I needed to hear that from someone else. I’ve fielded so many calls asking for interviews for memorial specials already.”

“Boo,” Angela jeered and the other woman gave a rather wet chuckle. “Although if some network is desperate enough to go through putting one together, Mr. Stark will get a kick out of it when he gets back.”

Angela pointedly put aside the part of her that remembered him standing just across from her when the Reaper went off. She wouldn’t believe that was the end of him. She wouldn’t believe that his death was her fault.

“Thanks for the positive Angie,” Pepper added. “I’ll have a lawyer call you in less than two hours okay?”

“Sure.” Angela forced herself back to the present problem. “Thank you again, Pepper. Give Happy my love.”

The two women said their goodbyes and Angela listened until she heard dial tone. She was exhausted and in pain, but she wouldn’t take any more morphine. She needed a clear head. Angela took a moment to rub a hand gently over her face. Her eyes closed and she tried to center herself again.

If she ignored that the people she was maneuvering weren’t her underlings, and that she had a chest full of shrapnel, it really wasn’t any different than a day at her office at SI.

Angela opened her eyes and tried to prepared herself for the upcoming battle with the doctors.

……………………………….........................................................................

The little section of the cave they were staying in was alive with activity. Tony stood in front of a work bench, issuing orders, as the man in the suit translated.

“If this is going to be my work station I want it well lit. I want these up.” He gestured. “I need welding gear. I don’t care if it’s acetylene or propane.” Tony continued talking over the chaos around him. “I need a soldering station. I need helmets. I’m going to need goggles. I would like a smelting cup. I’m going to need two sets of precision tools.”

The list went on. The men around him were more than willing to fulfill his every need now that they thought they’d get what they wanted.

Later, after everyone had left, Tony worked on cracking the case open on one of his missiles. “How many languages do you speak?” He asked the man in the suit.

“A lot,” the man admitted. “But apparently not enough for this place.” Tony huffed in bitter amusement while he continued to work. “They speak Arabic, Urdu, Dari, Pashto, Mongolian, Farsi, Russian.”

That diversity in language implied a large organization. “Who are these people?” He pulled out the propulsion and fuse sections of his weapon.

“They are your loyal customers, sir.” Tony turned to look at the man in the suit, wanting to know the name of the people illicitly acquiring his weapons. “The call themselves the Ten Rings.”

With a breath through his nose, Tony filed that information away for later. He crouched down at the head of the missile and used the air impact wrench to free the warhead. “We’re the only captives here?” He tried to ask casually.

“It appears so. At least there are no other’s who have required my assistance.” The man in the suit watched him curiously. “Why?”

Tony felt something unclench within him. If the group had taken Angela she would have required medical attention. “I was with someone,” he admitted.

“I am sorry I cannot tell you more,” the suited man replied. “If they were captured it is unlikely they are still alive,” he informed gently.

Of course, they could have just killed her. With a grimace, Tony felt himself tighten back up.

After a long moment of watching Tony work on the missile, the elder man crouched down next to him. “You know, we might be more productive if you include me in the planning process.”

“Yeah, huh,” Tony grunted in response, feeling a mixture of relief and sadness. Angela wasn’t with them, but that just meant she was probably dead. His jaw locked in bitterness before he swept the thought away. He wouldn’t know unless he got back.

With a few quick hits he dislodged the warhead and then reached in for the guidance system. He brought the assembly over to his bench and worked on extracting the palladium he knew was housed within it. Once the metal was free he commented, “Okay, we don’t need this.” Tony tossed the mechanism over his shoulder.

“What is that?” The man in the suit peered at the piece of metal Tony held up to the light.

“That’s palladium, zero point one five grams,” Tony grumbled. “We need at least one point six, so why don’t you go break down the other eleven.”

Later still, Tony worked on creating a ceramic mold for the palladium ring. Once he finished he placed the metal he’d harvested from the missiles into the smelting cup and waited for it to melt.

Tony rubbed his hands over his face. This wasn’t really any different than a day at his shop at home, if he ignored the fact he was using sub-par tools, and was a captive in a cave. He rolled his jaw, feeling the scratchy growth of beard on his chin. He was dirty and starting to smell, but couldn’t really afford to care.

There was only so long before the people watching them realized that he wasn’t building a Jericho missile. Time was like a sinister presence looming over his shoulder. They had to hurry. The arc reactor was only the first step.

Once Tony had judged that the metal was at the correct temperature he watched nervously as his cell mate carried the container across the room. If anything screwed up with the palladium, they were dead.

“Careful,” Tony warned. “Careful, we only get one shot at this.”

“Relax. I have steady hands,” the man in the suit assured him easily. True to his word the tongs never wavered. “Why do you think you’re still alive?” He joked.

Tony followed him toward the bench and then set the battery down on it. With narrowed eyes, he watched the man pour the liquid metal into the mold. “What do I call you?” He finally asked.

The man paused for a long second, finishing his task before speaking. “My name is Yinsen.”

“Yinsen,” Tony repeated. “Nice to meet you.” He was relieved to see that everything looked to have gone well.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Yinsen replied.

……………………………….........................................................................

The base doctors were not amused. At one point, the surgeon who had operated on her swore at her in Italian before storming out. Angela made a point of learning that the roadblock’s name was Dr. Whitman.

Outwardly unfazed by his exit, she continued to lay out her plan with the intractable will she had so recently honed while working on the repulsors for the Freedom line. Mr. Stark was a horrible lab partner, but he was an excellent whetstone. Unable to convince the surgical fellow, and with the head surgeon having left the discussion, the two groups stalemated. When the doctors left, Mike warned her that they were probably going to try to get medical power of attorney.

Angela gritted her teeth in rage. They were wasting her time. No court would pass judgment fast enough. She would die waiting on their decision. Mike tried to keep her on an even keel, but they were both exhausted and frustrated.

It was nearing eleven at Aviano when the lawyer called. Angela was gratified to hear the steady voice of Mr. Jimmez on the other end of the line. It paid to have friends in legal.

They made sure the door to her room remained shut before coming up with a plan of attack. Jimmez was soon joined by another lawyer. A third on a separate line got a hold of base command and set up a meeting between him, the hospital’s chief of medicine, and the two siblings. There was also another pack of lawyer’s expected to be there to represent the Base and the hospital.

The meeting couldn’t be held in her room however, so Angela tolerated the nurse’s fussing to get her mobile. A consent form was produced, which she signed. Then a separate form had to be signed for the same thing by Mike.

Angela counted her breaths, thought of a good wine, and steeled herself. She couldn’t be seen as unstable. If she was going to have bite, it would have to be the press of logic leading the way. It wasn’t easy. The control on her emotions was a slippery fraying rope.

It was one in the morning at Aviano when the meeting took place. No one was at their best except for the lawyers in Malibu. Angela leaned back in her wheelchair next to Mike, allowed the suits to duke it out, and waited for her cue. When Dr. Whitman opened his mouth, she was ready.

“Drawing the shrapnel with a magnet will cause untold tissue damage to the patient,” he protested.

The way the Aviano contingent kept addressing her as ‘the patient’ was pissing her off as much as Garrick’s subtle misogyny.

“Forgive me Doctor,” Angela broke in, cutting off Whitman’s continued argument. “But the electromagnet will not draw the shrapnel at all,” she rebutted. “Instead it will create a magnetic field that will keep the barbs in place where they currently are.”

She angled her shoulders toward the base commander and chief of medicine. It hurt, but she kept going. “The cluster in question is here.” She waved a hand imperiously at the image Mike held up for her. They‘d choreographed it back in the hospital room, and Angela secretly enjoyed the petty shot across the surgeon’s bow.

“As you can see, all the pieces are within centimeters of each other, located to the right of the right ventricle just above the inferior vena cava. Inoperable, unless one considers a procedure with an estimated ninety five percent mortality rate. Estimated, because there has yet to be a single documented fully successful surgery to remove the barbs of an FGM-96 Reaper. A weapon which I designed,” she added, just to remind them that yes, she was the engineer there.

“It is an untested medical procedure.” Dr. Whitman’s face was pinched, his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to continue but Angela interrupted him again.

“As is the surgery you are recommending as the medically sound option.” She folded her hands primly in her lap.

Angela took a moment to meet the eyes of the chief of medicine and the base commander. “Gentlemen, I am willing to waive any liability your hospital, or your base, may hold over my treatment if my proposed prosthesis implantation is allowed to occur.” Unsaid was the threat that, if they denied her, there was potential liability for her previous and current treatment.

Her lead lawyer from Malibu broke the ensuing standoff.

A tall, tanned man, with a bald head and thin mustache, Mr. Jimmez did not look intimidating. His voice, however, was crisp and forceful. “Miss. Harper was given an estimated time frame of twenty four to forty eight hours of life, of which several have elapsed in argument.” He folded his hands on the table in a way that somehow seemed menacing. “If Base Aviano, and it’s associated medical institutions, are unwilling to provide the care Miss. Harper requires, we will move she be released on her own recognizance.”

Angela was very careful to only blink slowly and keep the grin off her face. The part about meeting a challenge that she had always loved was using her arguments, and the tools at her disposal, to win the day. That her tools were sometimes people wasn’t sitting as well with her anymore, but it wouldn’t make her back away from doing what was necessary.

Jimmez pressed the argument. “Stark Industries has secured a private operating theater in Venice for Miss. Harper. It is staffed with surgeons who have already agreed to perform her prosthesis implantation should Base Aviano prove unwilling.”

The chief of medicine was the one who spoke up next. “Miss. Harper’s state of mind is in question. There are concerns over whether she can make decisions about her own medical care.”

“Concerns answered by the legal holder of her medical power of attorney being seated next to her,” Mike chimed in. “For the record I approve both the procedure and the potential release of my sister on her own recognizance.”

He tipped his head to the side and threw a slightly condescending note into his voice. “As a medical professional, I know that it can be challenging to be presented with care options that differ from common practice. However, there are reasons why progressive hospitals are embracing a more holistic care approach. Simply put, working with the patient is what works, gentlemen.”

Angela tried to suppress the spark of triumph in her eyes. Dr. Whitman looked to be having a hard day.

The base commander finally cut through the renewed bickering. “After hearing the arguments presented, I am inclined to allow this procedure to go forward.” He held up a finger and turned to the lawyers. “Provided we have all necessary liability forms filled out and the surgeon who performs the operation is sourced by Stark Industries.”

On the screen Mr. Jimmez made a motion. One of the lawyers next to him rose and walked off camera. “We will arrange helicopter transport of Dr. Yuen from where he is waiting in Venice to your base. He will be there within the hour. Please gather the necessary forms and we will oversee Miss. Harper’s signature of them.”

“One more thing,” the base director continued. He looked directly at Angela with his hard brown eyes. “I am cutting through the crap surrounding this as a favor.” He pointed at her. “My return for this favor would be that you allow us the specs for the design you put together for use in the United States military.”

Angela felt herself flush in rage. Low. Very low. She could refuse and fight her way through being released from the hospital, which would take more time. Or she could accept and have to share her design with the military. Angela took a moment to try to channel her boss at his most irritating.

She smiled politely at the base commander, hiding her clenched teeth. “I’m sure my legal team will be able to draft a contract between myself and Base Aviano for the medical usage of my prosthesis.”

Angela wondered if the man would go for her carefully couched offer. The guidelines she’d verbally sketched would be further built upon by the excellent lawyers at SI. Though it was a medical matter they were currently consulting on, one should never argue intellectual rights with a Stark lawyer.

The commander nodded and the group began the process of wrapping up the legal loose ends.

 


	8. Under Pressure

_Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man or The Dead South. I just kicked them both out of the car at the same time. Not sure if I’ll find a bill for destruction of public property in the mail. Perhaps I should hire a lawyer of my very own._

 

Chapter 7: Under Pressure

The Dead South- Wishing Well

By the time he’d finished building the arc reactor and hooking it to their power grid for its start up, he was exhausted. Tony hit the switch. The lights in their cave dimmed as the glow from the arc grew brighter. Intelligent brown eyes watched it carefully to see if it would sustain reaction.

Yinsen walked up next to him and blew out a breath. “That doesn’t look like a Jericho missile,” he observed.

“That’s because it’s a miniaturized arc reactor.” Tony couldn’t believe he’d actually done it, in a cave in Afghanistan of all places. He took a moment to savor the breakthrough. “I got a big one powering my factory at home. It should keep the shrapnel out of my heart.”

“But what could it generate?” His cell mate eyed the piece of tech on the table.

“If my math is right, and it always is, three gigajoules per second.” Tony noticed that around them the lights in the cave brightened again. It looked like the reaction would be sustained.

The man in the glasses shook his head slightly. “That could run your heart for fifty lifetimes.”

“Yeah,” Tony admitted. “Or something big for fifteen minutes.”

Grabbing his stack of tracing paper, he beckoned Yinsen over to the drafting table he’d set up. “This is our ticket out of here,” he confided.

Yinsen stared down at the bundle of papers, his brow cocked questioningly. “What is it?”

“Flatten them out and look,” Tony commanded. He followed word with deed by drawing his hands across the pages so they were taught. The full schematics for the manned metal suit came into view. It was a crazy idea, he knew, but it was the next step.

“Oh, wow,” Yinsen breathed. Tony’s face broke into a smug smile. “Impressive,” the man congratulated.

Yeah. Tony agreed.

The next day was spent setting up to replace the electromagnet in his chest with the arc reactor. Pulling off his shirt, Tony lay down on his cot. He ignored the pebbled flesh on his arms from the cold air. When the electromagnet was removed, anxiety and relief flowed through him in equal measure. Thankfully, Yinsen was quick about installing the arc.

He lay there after the procedure running a mental diagnostic on his body. Everything seemed fine. It wasn’t until he stood up that the full impact hit him. Both of his hands were free.

He no longer needed to worry about where the damn battery he’d been lugging around was at. There was no more concern about moving too far, or too quickly, and unplugging himself. It was like having a tiny piece of his freedom back.

In pleasure, Tony swaggered forward and held his arm out to Yinsen. They shook on their success and settled down to take a break.

……………………………….........................................................................

Angela sat in a side room in the base’s engineering division, steadily working on the contraption she hoped would save her life.

“You couldn’t have had someone else do this?” Mike asked anxiously.

“Would you want to leave something this critical to the hands of someone else?” She questioned back.

Mike shook his head. “No.”

It was seven in the morning. Angela had no idea how she was still functioning. The morphine had completely worn off hours before, and it had been less than three days since she’d been blown up by her own weaponry. It was an inhuman effort she should have never been able to muster. According to the doctors, she shouldn’t have even been conscious yet.

She felt like there was glass imbedded in her muscles and molten lead filling her head. Privately, she admitted to herself that the exhaustion was making her fingers stupid. As she wrapped the enamel copper wire, she kept banging her broken pinky.

“I’m going to scrub up so I can be in there with you,” Mike commented.

With dogged motions she continued assembling the magnet. “Is that wise?” She muttered.

“How much longer until you’re done?” He countered.

She understood. If the situations were reversed she’d do anything to try to help her brother, even if it put her somewhere she shouldn‘t be. That obstinate streak was probably their dad’s fault.

Angela yawned, long and wide. It made her head throb. “A bit.” She continued her motions.

He shuffled in the seat next to her. “Surgery is scheduled for eleven thirty.”

Nodding, she tamped down her irritation at his prodding. Angela knew what time it was and how many hours were left before she had to be in pre-op. She was trying not to think about it.

A part of her wanted to take a break, so she could make sure he knew that if something happened to her it wasn’t his fault. It would only lead to an emotional breakdown however, so Angela continued working. If she quit she might fall asleep despite the pain.

“It’ll be done by then.” There was silence for a moment, and the ache from her pinky radiating up her arm started to eat at her. “Tell me about what the kids and Molly are up to. Have you called her since you got here?” Angela swallowed down a well of fear that she may never see them again.

He gave a soft chuckle and she took the distraction to blink back tears. “Yes. She’s worried about you. We haven’t told the kids anything of course.” He paused again and then added, “I haven’t told Molly about what you’re going to do either.”

“Thank you for small favors.” Angela quipped.

Mike made a noise of amusement. “Yeah, well, be prepared. I’m going to have to tell her sometime.”

“Later.” Angela demanded. “Much, much later. A few years if possible.” Molly would not approve.

A lull settled between them again.

“You know Evangeline picked out your birthday card this year,” Mike said conversationally. Angela let out a soft snort at the idea of an eighteen month old choosing a greeting card. Her brother grinned at her disbelief. “We gave her a choice of three. She was insistent about the one with the horses. They’re her favorite animal. She’s going through a phase.”

Angela huffed out a laugh. “I remember Brandon had that ‘mine’ phase.”

“Oh,” Mike chortled, “Evie’s already had that. She still has that. It‘s just now everything also has to have a horse on it.” Her brother paused for a moment and then added, “I would have brought it with me but we sent it a few days ago. Should already be at your place when you get home.”

If she got home. Angela frowned. Her birthday was the coming Saturday. If she screwed something up with her calculations she wouldn’t need a card.

“The cartoon horses are atrocious. They’re made with glitter,” Mike finished with obvious relish.

Despite her dark thoughts she felt a grin curl her lips. It felt like forever since she’d smiled. “You used your child to send me a glitter bomb. That’s rude, Mikey,” Angela chastised. Mike snickered. “Before you leave you should pick up another airplane model for Brandon and a stuffed horse for Angie II. Something obnoxiously rainbow colored.” It’d be nice for the kids to have a gift from her, just in case.

“Oh yeah?” Mike mused. “From you I suppose? How am I supposed to buy anything with no Italian money. What do they even use here?”

“Euros,” Angela answered easily.

“You going to pay me for it or just take the credit?” Mike teased. Angela momentarily closed her eyes at the slice of normality.

“Well, I’d give you the money for it, but my wallet is still on a private plane at Bagram,” she joked dryly.

A few hours later Dr. Yuen, an Asian man of middle age asked, “Are you ready, Angela?”

Angela relaxed back against the bed, all the monitoring equipment back on and a crude electromagnet nearby. ‘No,’ she thought. “Yes,” she answered.

The anesthesiologist stepped in and asked Angela to count her breaths.

……………………………….........................................................................

They settled down to play backgammon for a bit.

“You still haven’t told me where you’re from,” Tony commented, pulling the top off their teapot.

Yinsen rolled the dice before glancing up. “I’m from a small town called Gulmira. It’s actually a nice place.” He answered.

“Got a family?” Tony wondered. He poured them both a cup of tea.

“Yes,” Yinsen smiled down at the board. “And I will see them again when I leave here.” The older man looked up at him again. “And you, Stark?”

Tony met Yinsen’s eyes, set the man’s tea down next to him, and twitched his head to the side. “Nothing,” he admitted baldly. A brilliant, brunette ghost rose to mock him.

“No?” Yinsen raised his eyebrows. “So you’re a man who has everything and nothing.” He mused.

Tony gave a side twitch of his lips. Didn’t that sum him up nicely?

……………………………….........................................................................

Two days after her second surgery Mike finally terrorized the hospital administrators enough to have her released.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Mike asked from behind her. He was backing her wheelchair through the door of one of the rooms the base had set up for video conferences.

Angela kept a careful hold on the battery in her lap and tried to mind the wires connecting to her chest. The day before a clumsy nurse hadn’t been paying attention and had almost tangled her arm in the cables. “It has to be done. The sooner the better.”

He gave a sigh, but said no more. With a few movements he had her positioned in front of the camera and had taken a seat off to the side. When the clock ticked down to five in the evening local time, Angela connected the Skype call. Mr. Stane’s large frame came into focus seated behind his desk.

“Angela,” he greeted. It was eight in the morning in Malibu and she could see that Stane was still drinking coffee. She thought he looked strained around the edges. It was to be expected. He was bearing the full weight of the company while Mr. Stark, Tony, was missing.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you up and around. I was sorry to hear what happened to you over there. If the company can do anything to help, please let us know.” He waved a hand. “We’re in a bit of disarray over here what with the terrible news about yourself and Tony,” he explained. “But we’ll certainly do our best by you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stane,” Angela replied. Before she could continue the man spoke again.

“I’ve had HR put you on medical leave for now. But you’re job will be waiting for you when the doctors give you the all clear. So don‘t you worry about that.” He leaned in toward the camera. “Rest and recuperate, Angela.”

Well, she thought in frustration, that effectively extended the hand of help and then put limitations on it. She’d been counting on using her lab at Stark Industries to help her fix her new tether issue. That didn’t even touch on the issue of catching a flight back to the States. She couldn’t fly commercial and the military wasn’t likely to make a special flight just for her.

SI paid very well, and she had the settlement from her parent’s death available to her. Outfitting a personal lab from scratch was within her means, but it would take time. She’d have to find premises first. Angela tried to marshal her thoughts in order to make the request for access to her lab at SI, but she’d apparently been quiet for too long and Stane was moving on.

“Now,” his voice took on a crisper tone. “When I read over your email and the documents you sent me, I was very concerned. They seem to outline a disturbing trend within the company,” Stane continued.

Angela pursed her lips. She still wasn’t comfortable with having transmitted the information that way, but being stuck in Italy it was her only option.

They spent about an hour going through her findings step by step. Stane wanted to know what had first caught her attention, and then why she’d made the jump to the component lists. Finally, he asked her for theories on the likely culprits.

“Honestly the theft comes from such disparate departments there are too many variables to narrow it down.” Angela paused for a moment. Directly accusing someone was not to be done lightly. “Hoeft from IT is involved. And I would suspect Inventory and Safety are involved in some way as well. As to who there? Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time to delve further before I was scheduled for the Jericho demonstration.”

Stane gestured carelessly with a large hand. “Don’t worry about that. The information you’ve provided is more than enough for an internal investigation.” He sat back in his chair. “I promise you I’ll put someone on this right away,” he assured. “The company does not take theft like this lightly. You focus on getting well, I‘ll take things from here.”

After a few more formalities, he signed off. Angela never got a chance to ask him to open a lab for her.

Looking across the room, she met Mike’s worried eyes. “What are you going to do?”

She considered her options. “Call Pepper.” Ruefully she thought, ‘Again.’

Unfortunately, Pepper couldn’t help much. She promised to put Angela in contact with a realtor, but didn’t have the authority to open any of Mr. Stark’s private labs. In the end, the three of them decided that Angela’s best option was to appeal to the Base for lab space.

The Base commander, having the previous experience of dealing with SI lawyers under his belt, cut the military a better deal the second time around. Aviano would provide her lab space and any equipment she needed. In return they had partial rights to anything she designed using said equipment. There was an added codicil that ensured her non-compete agreement with SI wasn‘t breeched, but it was her only protection.

With effort, Angela pushed down the churning ball of anger in her gut. She was being backed into one corner after another. It’d been awhile since she’d been on the losing end of her own game.

By the time she and Mike finally settled into the makeshift bunk room across the hall from her newly minted lab, her eyes itched and her spine slumped. The place was in the basement of a mostly unused science building close to the hospital. It was ill lit, isolated, and depressing.

“Well,” Mike broke the silence, glancing around at their surroundings. “What now?”

Angela yawned and carefully positioned her battery on a nightstand next to her cot. “Now, we call it a day. Tomorrow I start working again.”

After three days out of the hospital Angela could admit that the problem was more complex than she had anticipated.

It took a few close calls to get used to having to move a battery with her when she needed to go more than four feet. It was further complicated by the crutches she needed to use to get around on her broken foot. The battery had to be constantly monitored for charge, kept clean and dry, and it was heavy.

Button up shirts were her new best friends. Not only did they cover scars from her first surgery, but they covered up the jarring site of the clunky metal cylinder in her chest. The last became of importance to her when she’d been stopped five times on her way across the base one day: three times were by personnel who thought she had a bomb. A base wide memo was put out about her.

One week after the successful surgery, she crutched her way through the main doors of the hospital for her week check up, Mike at her side. His presence didn’t stop the receptionist from giving the wires trailing from her chest a horrified look. Angela sighed tiredly and rolled her eyes.

Mike cleared his throat to get the woman’s attention. “Ten forty five appointment for Harper,” he stated flatly.

The nurse had her sign in and then wait to be called.

“Thank God you have good health insurance,” Mike quipped.

“Thank God it works in Italy,” Angela rejoined.

Twenty minutes later they were called back. Angela stripped out of her over shirt and tank top, but refused to lose her bra. She pulled the little paper vest on and sat on the examination table. The doctor seeing her was, thankfully, not Dr. Whitman.

“Good morning,” a younger dark haired man greeted as he entered the room without knocking. “My name is Dr. Lori and I’ll be assisting you today. The man finally looked up from his clip board and froze.

Angela watched the man’s mouth drop into an ‘o’ of surprise. When it held for several long seconds, she could feel her eyebrow raise. “Nice to meet you, Doctor,” she prompted.

“Yes, you as well,” he mumbled. He moved across the room while his eyes danced across her chest piece. “I understand you underwent elective surgery a week ago.”

“It was not elective,” Angela clipped back, insulted. “I had a prosthesis implanted to control the movement of shrapnel left in my chest from an attack while I was in Afghanistan.”

The man still hadn’t looked up from her chest. When he glanced at her chart, and then back to her, his gaze went right to the electromagnet.

Angela looked over the Doctor’s shoulder at her brother. Soundlessly, Mike mouthed, ‘The hell?’ She rolled her eyes and was tempted to snap her fingers in front of the doctor’s face.

Dr. Lori reached out an ungloved hand to touch her chest and Angela reacted on instinct. She snagged his wrist in an uncompromising grip. The man finally looked up.

“Doctor, I understand that this is unusual, but there are delicate electrical connections to that device that are currently keeping me alive. Please do not disturb them.” Mentally she added, ‘with your unsanitary, ungloved hand.’

The doctor blinked at her, as if only just realizing that there was a person attached to the device. “My apologies. It is unusual. I’m afraid my enthusiasm ran away with me, Miss. Harper.”

‘Better,’ Angela thought in satisfaction. It didn’t last long.

Dr. Lori insisted she remove her bra even though it sat below the electromagnet. Angela took a breath, but conceded. The man had a point about examining the skin around the device. Understanding his reasoning didn’t make the situation less uncomfortable or invasive.

He further compounded her bad impression by spending so much time prodding the skin around the device that Mike started shifting in his seat.

“Is there something wrong, Doctor?” Her brother asked.

Dr. Lori flinched, startled. “No, no. It’s simply amazing to see the melding of flesh and machinery. The tissue seems to be healing quite nicely.”

‘And that took you five minutes of touching me,’ she mentally groused. Angela felt her fingers curl into a fist.

After several long moments he finally pulled his hand back. “Have you considered becoming a medical case study?”

“No,” Angela said steadily, but with force.

The doctor made a commiserating face which she thought came off as disingenuous. “I’m sure this has been a difficult time for you, but the possible applications…”

“Are very case specific,” she gritted out. “The military have access to my schematics and the notes from Dr. Yuen’s surgery. I feel no need to take it further.”

Angela would have thought she was over reacting if Mike hadn‘t stood and crossed the room to her side. She had noticed her temperament had been fluctuating lately. Part of that was poor sleep, nightmares creeping in once the frantic push to save her own life was over. Part, Mike speculated, was PTSD. An airman had banged a metal door loudly one day and Angela had ducked.

“Well yes,” the doctor offered, eyeing her brother’s tall, muscular frame. “I suppose the trauma is still very near to you.”

Angela felt her eyes hood. ‘Yes,’ she thought, ‘less than four feet.’

Once the appointment was over Mike offered softly, “We could request a different doctor.”

“And give the military a reason to insist on more visits? No.” She finished buttoning up her shirt protectively around the wires.

……………………………….........................................................................

They spent the next several weeks fabricating the armor and pretending to look busy for the guards. It was a game of time, Tony knew. If his captors found out what he was doing before he was ready, then Tony lost.

When they came to the door and opened the viewing slot, yelling into him and Yinsen, he thought they’d finally found out. Tony shut off the blow torch and tried to prepare himself for the worst. He and Yinsen stood on opposite sides of the main aisle in their room, hands on their heads. The door opened, revealing a large group of armed men. At the back of them stood the bald man.

“Relax,” the bald man said in slightly accented English.

Tony and Yinsen slowly dropped their hands. ‘What the hell is going on?’ Tony wondered.

The man came over and pulled at Tony’s shirt where the glow of the arc reactor showed through. Tony had to stop himself from hitting him.

“The bow and arrow once was the pinnacle of weapons technology.” The man’s hand fell away, and he strode across the room. “It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine. An empire twice the size of Alexander the Great and four times the size of the Roman Empire.” The man wandered the room, picking up pieces of tech, before finally lifting the stack of trace paper plans off the work bench. “But today, whoever holds the latest Stark weapons rules these lands.”

Panic fizzed in Tony’s chest and he looked over at his cell mate. Yinsen made a quelling motion with his hand. The bald man dropped the papers back on the bench and Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

“And soon,” the man continued, “It will be my turn.”

At the man’s words, Tony felt his jaw tighten. He was glad they were close to finishing the suit and escaping. The guy was dangerous enough without the capability to level cities.

While the man stood in front of Tony he started a conversation with Yinsen that Tony couldn’t follow. Whatever Yinsen said resulted in him being grabbed by two men and forced to his knees.

The bald man went to the stove and, using a set of tongs, picked up a coal. He blew on it until it was red hot, all the while watching Tony out of the corner of his eye. He said something to Yinsen, and then reached out to push Yinsen’s head down to the anvil.

Tony‘s palms started sweating. “What’s he want?” He asked. No one answered him.

In response to the bald man’s questions, Yinsen began insistently repeating a phrase with the word ‘Jericho’ in it. That fixed it in Tony’s mind. They’d figured out that something wasn’t right about what he was building. His gut tightened in dread.

Unable to stand back and watch whatever was going to happen to his cell mate, Tony took a step forward. “What do you want? A delivery date?”

There was a chorus of shouts and movement from the armed men by the door. Tony instantly stopped moving and held his hands up. At last, the bald man looked back over at him.

Tony tried the only thing he could think of to save Yinsen. “I need him,” he declared lowly. “Good assistant.”

The bald man held the glowing ember next to Yinsen’s face for a long moment before dropping it. “You have until tomorrow to assemble my missile,” he commanded. In a sudden show of violence, he threw the tongs across the room. They landed with a crash, chips of stone spraying outward from their impact.

The group slowly filtered out of their cell as Yinsen sat back on his heels.

‘Fuck,’ Tony thought.


	9. Alone

_Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man. He’s got Marvel stamped on the bottom of his foot. I also don’t own The Dead South. I have no idea what’s on the bottom of their feet. Either way I stapled them together and left them in a closet. It would probably be wise of me to hire someone skilled in masonry to brick that door over._

 

Chapter 8: Alone

The Dead South- Into the Valley

“You can’t stay,” Angela reasoned. “It’s been three weeks.”

“Three weeks with my sister who came very close to death,” Mike pointed out.

Angela felt the increasingly familiar pang of guilt, followed by a lighter dart of disgust aimed at herself. She’d come that close to death through circumstances that were driven by a chain of her own choices. And it seemed her decisions were still suspect. All around the base, personnel who saw her stared.

It was difficult not to internalize their reactions, even if she didn’t outwardly show them. Her previous ability to distance herself from her emotions was shot. She and Mike had briefly discussed her seeing a therapist, but Angela was finding herself hesitant to be seen by new people.

“Molly and the kids need you at home,” She opined.

Mike sighed, but didn’t dispute it. They both knew how difficult it was for Molly to take care of two young children by herself. It didn’t help that the children were becoming more upset the longer their father was gone.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I love you for rushing out here and going to bat for me. But the really uncertain part is over now,” Angela reminded him. “Plus, I’m working at all hours trying to make a Mark II version and you’re bored out of your skull,” she lightly teased.

Her brother raised a thick red eyebrow at her. “Well, that’s the truth.” He leaned back against the wall in the lab and crossed his arms. “You sure you want to stay here? You could come home with me,” he offered.

Angela nixed that idea right away. “Unless you’re hiding one behind your refrigerator of craft beer in the garage, you don‘t have a lab.”

“If you pull out the right bottle there’s a secret trap door.” He smirked at her.

She gave a gusty chuckle and rubbed at the thin skin below her eyes. “Seriously though, I’m in the best place I can be right now.” It wasn’t the most pleasant, but it had what she needed. Angela glanced around the lab and firmed her lips. “I will find an answer for this,” she declared, gesturing to the cables running from her chest.

Mike dropped his arms, stepped forward, and hugged her. As always since her final surgery, he was careful of the hand that held the battery and the connections in her chest. “I know you will.”

She was touched by the certainty in his voice. For a moment she luxuriated in the safety of her brother‘s embrace.

“Well,” he sighed, pulling back. “I suppose I should start looking for a flight.” He released her altogether and moved over to a nearby computer.

“Let me pay your way back?” Angela offered.

Mike shook his head in mock despair. “You’re just excited to have all your incidentals back in order.”

Angela waggled her head, because yeah, she was. Her purse had been transferred from Stark’s private plane awhile ago, but her ID and phone had been stuffed into her flak jacket at the time of the attack. They’d been ruined by her blood.

After she had her purse, she’d gotten a phone. Then she had spent a few days setting up her apartment for long term closure through Pepper. Once that was settled, Angela had begun the process of seeking premises for her new lab via the recommended realtor. She’d run into some problems with city ordinances, so had focused her search outside of LA and Santa Monica.

Meanwhile, it had taken the better part of three weeks to get a new passport and ID.

“You don’t need to pay my way. I can afford it,” Mike joked.

Not quite willing to play along, Angela pressed, “It’d make me feel better for scaring you to death and dragging you to Italy.”

Her brother gave her an amused look. “You realize how strange it sounds to have you apologize for dragging me to Italy?”

“Out of context,” she rebutted.

“I pay my way back, you get something else for the kids?” He bargained.

“After the horse and the airplane? You want me to spoil them?” She asked lifting a brow. If he did Molly would have his head.

Mike grunted ruefully. “On second thought, you can pay my way back.” Angela smiled in triumph. “The minute you decide to come home though, I want to know. Even if it’s back to Malibu and not Cleveland,” he demanded, suddenly stern.

With a wry twist of her lips, she solemnly promised, “The very moment. And before you ask, I will also keep you updated on this.” She tapped a finger near her collar bone. “Of course the two will probably closely coincide,” she added.

“Good.” He looked around the lab again and frowned. “I don’t like leaving you here by yourself.”

Angela shrugged lightly. There was nothing either of them could do about it. It was just one more thing in her life that had slipped from her control, like her emotions, or her ability to sleep.

“I’ll miss you,” she admitted. “Especially since this is the longest we’ve been together in awhile. But you can’t stay.”

“And you won’t go,” he finished.

“Can’t go,” she corrected. “Unless you want to worry about your kids accidentally unplugging their aunt,” she teased. It was only a tease in tone, by now both of them knew it was a serious complication.

“Yeah, I know,” he grudgingly agreed.

Two days later they had a base escort to the airport for Mike’s flight.

“Make sure you tell that Colonel I said thank you for saving my little sister,” he reminded as he hugged her goodbye in the car.

“I’m two years older than you,” she reminded, pulling back from the hug. Her battery companion was hidden in a tote bag but she couldn’t risk entering a commercial airport.

Mike ruffled her hair and Angela glared. He opened the door and bent back in to grab his carry on. “Maybe, but I’m bigger than you are,” he teased.

Angela allowed the complete lapse of maturity and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Bye Genie.” Mike closed the door.

Angela watched him walk through the entrance of the airport. When she lost sight of him in the crowd, she drew in a deep breath through her nose and let it out in a sigh. She was alone in a country of strangers.

……………………………….........................................................................

After the bald man threatened Yinsen, Tony found a new level of inspiration to speed his work. He finished the final piece of the suit by the wee hours of the morning. Immediately he and Yinsen started to prep Tony for wearing it.

Tony wrapped his hands the best he could with the tape they had while Yinsen used the lift to move the armor into position. In between, the two of them rigged explosive charges on their cell door.

Part of Tony was thrumming in anticipation. They were finally going to get out of there. Another part of him was twisting in dread. There were still so many things that could go wrong.

He shrugged into the welding jacket, then held still as Yinsen belted a thick piece of leather around his neck. When his skin was as protected as their limited supplies allowed, Tony took his place in the armor. The elder man lowered the chest piece onto him and Tony’s knees buckled slightly under the weight.

“Okay?” Yinsen asked. “Can you move?”

“Yeah,” Tony replied, adjusting his shoulders under the armor and already sweating.

“Okay, say it again,” Yinsen ordered.

Both men were talking softly and rushing. As soon as the guards realized what was going on they would have to start moving.

“Forty one steps straight ahead,” Tony dutifully replied. “Then sixteen steps, that’s from the door, fork right, thirty three steps, turn right.”

From outside the door their names were suddenly yelled. ‘Shit,’ Tony thought. ‘We’re so close.’

“Say something,” Tony urged Yinsen. The man was frantically working on the final connections of the suit. “Say something back to him.” Outside of their cell the shouting continued.

“He’s speaking Hungarian. I don’t…” Yinsen trailed off, lowering the air impact wrench.

“Then speak Hungarian,” Tony demanded tensely.

The elder man made a few frustrated gestures towards his head. “Okay, I know.”

Tony willed calm into himself. “What do you know?” He asked evenly.

“Egy perc,” Yinsen yelled toward the door, going back to buttoning the suit up with the wrench. The shouting continued and he once again yelled, “Egy perc!”

The men at the door were not placated, however. Tony heard the latch turn. He tried to brace himself for what he knew was coming. A sudden explosion vibrated the ground beneath him and blew debris passed his face. Ringing silence settled over the two men.

“How’d that work?” Tony wondered.

Yinsen leaned around him. “Oh my goodness. It worked alright.”

“That’s what I do,” Tony proclaimed smugly.

The two men paused to listen as more yelling started up further off in the caverns.

“Let me finish this,” Yinsen muttered.

“Initialize the power sequence,” Tony ordered.

For frantic moments they worked on closing the armor up while waiting on the power sequence to load. Their eyes watched the bar inch across the screen. It was moving far too slowly. Tony’s willed it faster as his breathing picked up pace. “Make sure the checkpoints are clear before you follow me out, okay?” He reminded Yinsen nervously.

The slender, soft spoken man was still busy watching the loading bar. “We need more time,” he muttered. Yinsen turned to Tony with an expression on his face that Tony couldn’t read. “Hey, I’m gonna go buy you some time,” he declared.

“Stick to the plan,” Tony called, but Yinsen was already moving. “Stick to the plan,” he yelled again. “Yinsen!”

……………………………….........................................................................

Angela was very tempted to throw the stupid notebook across the room. She had sketches for solar, kinetic motion, and thermoelectric powering structures. When she did the math however, none of them could reliably generate enough power on a small enough platform to be useful. She was reluctant to delve into nuclear types. They’d be too easy for the military to exploit.

She let out a long sigh and rubbed under her tired eyes. That motion was enough to remind her of her boss. He’d been missing for a month and a half already. Angela sucked on her lip and brought up the still clear memory of him being flung away from her in the blast. He’d looked right at her just before it happened. There had been such fear in his eyes. Sometimes she thought she saw blame.

Since Mike had left she had spent the majority of her time holed up in the lab. Without her brother there as a buffer, it was better for everyone involved if she kept to herself.

She’d felt his absence keenly during her second appointment with Dr. Lori. The doctor was determined to get her to be a case study. The man looked at her condition and saw plaudits for an article. It was better than what other people saw.

It had become general knowledge on base that she was the head of weapons development for Stark Industries. She’d over heard one airman comment to another that it was poetic justice she’d been blown up with her own bomb. The same man had openly hoped Stark was dead.

The rage that had sparked through her upon hearing those comments had been like lightning. She had come dangerously close to stalking across the street and punching an armed man in the face. Logically, Angela knew that the young man had probably been singing both their praises when he’d been using their weapons against other people. Having them used back at him had apparently changed his tune. His wasn’t the only one either.

There’d been a few times, when she’d gone to the gate to pick up a delivery, that she’d gotten blatant looks of disgust. Some of those looks were because of the wires in her chest, some of them were because the insurgents in Afghanistan were making free with Stark weapons.

A part of her was starting to think she deserved the condemnation. Her life had been her work. It had defined a large piece of her. All the drive and creativity she’d put into it seemed wasted after what she’d seen in the desert. Angela wasn‘t sure what the life she was fighting for was worth anymore.

A knock sounded on her lab door and she spun toward it in her swivel chair. Her arm automatically reached out and caught the loop attached to her battery before she even stood up. Dull curiosity sparked in her mind at the interruption. No one came to visit her.

Opening the door, her stomach dropped when she was met with Jim’s haggard face. A million thoughts swam through her mind. Had he found Tony? Had he found Tony’s body?

“Hi,” she breathed out.

Jim gave her a tired, lopsided grin as his eyes scanned over her. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Because when he had left before he’d thought that she would die, she acknowledged. Angela didn’t begrudge him going to look for his friend. Jim had known Stark far longer than her. He had the chance to actually help the man. She had been a lost cause.

“My brother wants me to thank you for saving my life.” The words spilled out mostly on accident. It was becoming harder for her to keep a check on herself when days went by without her talking to another living soul. Angela shuffled her feet in discomfort. “I thank you too. I don’t remember if I have before.”

Jim chuckled and she remembered she was blocking the door. Angela backed up clumsily to let him into the lab. “You have, but it looks like you saved your own life.”

She made an agreeing hum. Temporarily she had. Her continued survival seemed to be a mutating issue, however.

“I also heard you caused a ruckus doing it,” he teased.

She tipped her head to the side, not sorry in the least. Her opinion on base command was made up. “Regretfully.”

“And roped Pepper in,” he continued in a lightly accusing tone.

Angela wasn‘t really sorry for that either, but she did offer, “That woman is a goddess.”

He nodded in agreement and sat down on the green couch Mike had sourced from a nearby lounge. Angela waited for his eyes to trail down to her chest, like everyone else’s eventually did. “How come you’re still here?” He asked.

“Lab access,” she answered succinctly. Angela fidgeted, and then lowered herself onto the couch beside him. She set her crutches to the side. When she sat her battery on the cement floor, it made a loud clunk that drew his attention. His eyes followed the wires from the battery to her chest.

“Any luck?” She truly wanted to know and it served as a good distraction. There was zero desire to explain her current condition again.

Jim’s face went into a tight and disappointed look. “No,” he breathed out heavily. “We’re back for a rotation and re-supply. A new team is going out the day after tomorrow. I’m going with them.”

“Short turn,” Angela commented. At least he was out doing something. She felt like she was just spinning her wheels.

He nodded wearily. “How are you doing?”

Angela rubbed under her eyes again. “Frustrated and still working.”

“Tired,” he added.

“Yeah,” she agreed. There was an answer, she reminded herself. There was always an answer.

He gave her a small smile but didn’t comment. Together they sat on the stiff green couch in silence. Finally he asked, “How close was Tony?”

Angela let her eyes close for a long blink. She knew someone close to the man would ask eventually. Pepper hadn’t. Happy hadn‘t when she‘d talked to him. Of course it would be Jim.

She sucked on the inside of her bottom lip but tried to keep her expression still. “Do you really want me to answer that Col. Rhodes?” She knew, for a man like he seemed to be, that her question was probably answer enough.

“Jim,” he insisted, “And yes.”

Angela pursed her lips in consternation. “It was close,” she whispered.

“Could you tell if he was alive?” He pressed.

Reliving the memory in her mind’s eye, Angela clenched her teeth. There was definitely blame in Stark’s eyes. “Yes. He was alive.” She’d seen enough after she had fallen to recognize that.

Jim bobbed his upper body in a rocking nod. “You think he was alive when they dragged him off?”

Instead of answering directly she asked, “Why bother to drag off a dead man?” Angela shrugged and tried to get that glass window to go up between her and her feelings. Once again she failed. “If it was publicity, we would have seen something. If it was ransom, they need a live prisoner.”

“That’s what I thought too. But seven weeks and no demands,” he trailed off. “Do you think he survived long enough for them to get him medical attention?”

“Yes,” she nodded decisively. “Or we’re back to publicity. They would have used it.” Tony was too high profile for them not to. The image of his dead body would have brought national attention to any terrorist group.

Jim tapped a finger along his leg. “You think he’s still alive?”

Angela made sure to meet his eyes before she answered. “Yes.” And she almost wished that she did think Tony was dead, because alive he could only be a prisoner.

“Even with the,” he gestured to her chest as if it addressed the thing that had put the shrapnel in it.

With a sigh, she searched for a way to explain her train of thought to the man. The dry facts felt safest. “The Reaper is a fragmenting missile. It’s designed to do lethal damage in short to moderate range.

“I was about twelve meters away. Mr. Stark was closer than I was by about a meter. At that distance the payload should have killed us both,” she admitted. Her chest tightened in remembered fear. “Part of that was mitigated by flak jackets, but I have a suspicion that the weapon didn’t detonate properly.”

Angela stopped to wet her lips. Jim was leaning toward her, recognizing a good source of information perhaps. She took a deep breath and forced out, “He was alive after he hit the ground. He was alive when he was taken away. I believe he is still alive.”

“You seem pretty convinced,” Jim observed.

“I did this,” she gestured to her chest, “In a hospital. Tony Stark could do it in the dark, half dead.” Her boss was a lot of things and genius was not an honorary title. “Do not let them make you stop looking for him,” she entreated.

Jim nodded sharply. “I won’t,” he agreed. “Pepper said you’d be good for morale,” he commented.

Angela shrugged fatalistically. “If I thought he was dead I would tell you.” She tilted her head. “I probably wouldn’t tell Pepper,” she admitted.

“Yeah,” he agreed, seeming to acknowledge how awful that would be. He squinted his eyes at her. “In the dark, half dead, huh? You think he’s smarter than you?”

Angela felt her lips pull up in a smile, and she gave out a series of the gusty chuckles that seemed the only humor she could dredge up in the past few weeks. “He is,” she assured.

“That’s a high compliment from you,” Jim asserted.

She made a conceding noise in her throat. Her boss may be a horrible lab partner, but the engineering was strong with him.

……………………………….........................................................................

That night she dreamed of the attack again, but they weren’t in the desert. They were in Cleveland.

She half jumped, half fell out of the open door of the humvee behind Stark. In the moment it took her to shake off her heels to run in the sand, he was far ahead of her. Angela chased him down familiar streets until she burst through the door of her brother’s house. Stark was inside hiding behind the couch. Mike was standing in the living room.

“Hey Genie,” Mike greeted. He was weeding a row of tomato plants growing on a table. “Drink all the wine in Italy yet?” He asked.

From one blink to the next he was suddenly dressed in his grandfather’s World War Two uniform. She opened her mouth to warn them when the missile came through the front window, shattering the glass and overturning the table. It skidded to a halt next to Molly, who was holding Angie II.

“Horse,” little Angie’s voice called.

Tony’s eyes were glaring at her in accusation.

Molly blew out an exasperated breath. “What have I told you about bringing your work home with you?” She asked.

Before Angela could move her dream world exploded. She screamed in pain and terror, fire rolling over her. When the dust from the blast settled, she had a long moment to see that everyone in the house was dead. Brandon’s lumpy little body lay contorted near a remnant of the wall. She couldn’t even recognize his face.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, rolling over and trying to cover the hole in her chest.

“You’re not,” dead Mike rasped from the floor next to her. His blue eyes were streaked through with broken blood vessels. “You never are.”

Angela jolted awake in the dark of the lab, her mouth twisted open in a soundless howl. Desperate to get away from the images in her own mind, she swept the blanket off her legs and rolled to her feet. The cables connected to her battery tugged on her chest sharply and Angela abruptly sat back down on the couch.

Her whole body shook as she tried to remind herself that it was just a dream, not reality. Everyone in Cleveland was fine and that could never happen. She swiped ineffectually at her tears before freezing in realization. Her eyes strayed down to her chest.

Angela had first hand proof that Stark Industries weapons, her weapons, were in the hands of terrorists. Her dream could happen. It had happened for some other family somewhere. Brandon’s face had happened to some other child somewhere. Despair and self hatred rolled through her like a fog. She shivered in misery.

It was irrational to blame herself for the evil’s in the world, but she still felt like she had blood on her hands. Her work had been fine when she’d thought she was defending soldiers, or helping them defend civilians. She’d never allowed herself to really stop and think.

Angela had been proud of the FGM-96 Reaper. She’d felt a fierce glee when she‘d seen the reports on the weapon’s lethality. It had been a good build, one of her firsts as a project leader. That hadn’t been a thought that included the contemplation of pain, or the horrid long look into a death coming that you couldn’t avoid. She hadn’t considered herself the potential murderer of children. How could she not have seen that all as part of it? What kind of monster didn’t think of things like that?

Had it really only been a few months ago that she was celebrating the completion of the Jericho? That thing was a city killer and she‘d been proud at its demonstration. Leaning forward over her knees, she gagged and panted in distress.

Angela rocked herself slowly back and forth on the couch, her arms wrapped around her but careful. She always had to be careful now. She constantly had to watch so she didn’t get tangled, so she didn’t get out of range. Poetic justice, that airman had called it, karma.

God, she was so sorry. She shuddered as Mike’s dead voice rasped through her mind. For the rest of the night she didn’t dare go back to sleep.

……………………………….........................................................................

Notes:

Didn’t want to post a downer chapter after watching Endgame, but this is what was in the hopper.

I’m just gonna pretend that everyone was Parzival in Ready Player One. We all need an archivist. 


	10. Endings

_Disclaimer: I do not own Raphael Lake or Royal Baggs. I also do not own Iron Man. He has a Marvel tag on his collar. I just shoved them all beneath a steam roller and thought the resulting impressionist art might be cool for my wall. Suppose I should have bought some cooking spray. They didn’t remove in one piece._

 

Chapter 9: Endings

Raphael Lake & Royal Baggs- Slow Farewell

In the morning the gate called to tell her she had a delivery. Worn, and feeling thin in a way that she had never felt before, Angela trudged to the Jeep she was loaned for her own use.

She made it to the gate and finished signing for her package before she heard them talking. Angela didn’t think they realized she was still there.

“That woman gets freakier every time I see her.” She recognized the voice of one of the gate guards.

Another voice replied, “She’s a squint. What do you expect?”

The original speaker replied, “I don’t know. Sense enough to not be around where people can see her.”

“Does that thing in her chest weird you out or something? I didn‘t realize you had such a delicate constitution,” the second guard teased.

“Shut the fuck up,” the first man barked. “That thing just shows she got a taste of what she deserves. You saw what that shit she made did to Paul and Donaghue. What kind of diabolical bitch thinks shit like that up?”

Angela stood up from where she had bent over to stack the package and her battery. A hush fell behind her, but she didn’t turn around. She used the single crutch under her left arm to maneuver herself to her jeep and carefully slid into the driver’s seat. Rearranging her battery’s position, she put the jeep into drive.

……………………………….........................................................................

There was a moment after Tony lost sight of Yinsen that he could still hear the man’s footsteps. Soon even those faded away. They were replaced by the sound of gun fire and yelling. Tony felt his breath shorten further, and he brought wary eyes to watch the progress bar.

In those moments between Yinsen running out into the cave and the suit finally coming online, Tony thought of a hundred different ways he could die. Worse, he thought of a hundred different ways he didn’t die but didn’t escape.

A loud humming noise filled the cave as the suit finished powering up. The lights in the room flickered and then went out. In the darkness Tony gave a quick jerk of his shoulders, freeing himself from the crane with a metallic snap. He slapped the mask down over his face just as the voices of several arguing terrorists approached the open door of the cell.

Heart pounding and sweat beading on his upper lip, Tony waited motionless in the dark. The harsh tones continued for a long minute before being replaced by the scratch of footsteps creeping into the room. It sounded like only one pair, so Tony knew that there were more men waiting at the door.

The first man walked right in front of him. Tony stared at his back, watching the rise and fall of the man’s respirations. A final second of hesitation kept him frozen. When the man, at last, turned around to see the light from the arc reactor, Tony lashed out. The sickening crack of bones breaking against stone echoed through the chamber.

In response a hail of automatic weapons fire came from the doorway. Several bullets pinged off his armor. After images from the muzzle flashes crowded his vision. Tony breathed in the smell of gunpowder, stayed slightly crouched, and waited for them to stop firing.

After several interminable moments, the barrage died off and the group at the door took up arguing again. Tony made his move. When the remaining men looked back into the room, he was in front of them. Teeth gritted in fury, he slammed two of the guards into opposite walls before marching straight into the line of fire from a third. A swift jab knocked the man off his feet and down the hall.

When Tony rose from his slightly bent position, he noted that the suit was unwieldy, bulky, and ill balanced. About what he’d expect for being cobbled together from spare parts in a cave. It was working though, and he didn’t have time to waste thinking about it.

He pounded down the hall, hitting terrorists when he came across them. Desperation drove him onward at a furious pace, and behind him he left a trail of shrieking agony and death. The thump from the boots, and the various pneumatic and gear noises, almost drowned out the shouting from the men around him. Ahead of him the terrorists fled.

From up the tunnel came the great clang of heavy metal doors. A man, who had been locked in the tunnel with Tony, slapped his open hands futilely against the metal. He looked over his shoulder as if seeing a monster.

Tony charged ahead, knocking the man aside with a careless swat. The man’s skull crashed against the wall, leaving behind a smear of some unmentionable substance. Tony slammed the arm of the suit against the doors once, then twice, before raising his leg and landing a solid kick. With a metallic screech, the doors flew outward, taking out one of the men standing behind them.

He continued down the hall, twisting at the waist and clotheslining a man who came careening from a side tunnel. Unfortunately, the force behind Tony’s blow carried through. With a grinding crunch, his arm became imbedded in the wall.

Sweat dripped into his eyes and mouth as he tugged against the stone‘s hold. He could taste salt and metal. The refrain running in the back of his mind gained volume. He had to get to Yinsen. They had to get out.

In the moment he was trapped, another man ran up and fired a handgun point blank into Tony’s helmet. The bullet ricocheted back into the shooter’s head and his body thudded to the ground. Tony turned to look at the fallen man in surprise as the ringing in his helmet died down.

Refocusing on his escape, he gave a last full body wrench, throwing his weight away from the wall. His arm abruptly came free and momentum caused him to tip precariously to the side. A quick shuffle step regained him his balance and he continued on his way out.

He was almost to the opening when he saw Yinsen’s bloody form laying across some bags of grain. Tony’s stomach went cold, disbelief and dread flooding him. “Yinsen,” he called, making his way toward the downed man.

Yinsen raised his head and called weakly, “Watch out!”

Tony’s gaze flicked up in time to see an incoming grenade. With a grunt, he managed to lean out of the way just as the projectile sped past him. It slammed into the wall behind him, bringing down a tumble of rock.

He looked across to see that the man who had fired it was the bald man. Hatred rose up within Tony. Before him was the man who had threatened Yinsen, who had calmly watched Tony be tortured. Behind the protective faceplate, a snarl formed on Tony’s lips.

The thick gloves he was wearing didn’t allow for dexterity. Instead, he slapped open the casing on his arm. With a few quick jerks, he launched one of the improvised weapons from the suit at the bald man. It sailed over the man’s shoulder and detonated against the upper curve of the cave wall. In a hail of rubble, the man went down and didn‘t get back up.

Tony strode across the cave to Yinsen and tossed aside a sack of grain that was laying on top of him.

“Stark,” Yinsen said, his voice already going weak.

Tony stared down at the obviously badly injured man and swallowed hard. Taking a chance, he lifted his helmet. Yinsen was covered in blood. Tony could smell it even over the overwhelming scent of oil and gun powder.

“Come on. We got to go,” he demanded. He wouldn‘t leave Yinsen behind. “Move for me, come on. We got a plan. We gotta stick to it.”

The elder man didn‘t try to get up. “This was always the plan, Stark,” Yinsen admitted. He was going pale and was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“Come on,” Tony tried to persuade. They were so close. The cave entrance was right there. “You’re gonna go see you’re family. Get up,” he encouraged.

With a wheezy rasp in, Yinsen announced quietly, “My family is dead.” A spike of pain drove its way through Tony’s chest. “I’m going to see them now, Stark.”

With a shudder, Tony realized that the whole time they’d been stuck in that cell, Yinsen had already lost what he defined as everything.

“It’s okay,” Yinsen assured breathily. “I want this. I want this.”

Grimly, Tony acknowledged that Yinsen was growing weaker by the second. He would never make it out of there. There was nothing Tony could do to save the man. He was helpless all over again.

Huffing out a breath, he stared down at his dying friend. In the end, Tony offered the only thing he could in the time that was left. “Thank you for saving me.” He swore he would never forget it.

Yinsen‘s eyes were closed but he still managed to answer. “Don’t waste it. Don’t waste you’re life.” His chest rose shallowly for a handful of breaths and then he stilled. Yinsen almost looked peaceful.

Grief filled rage swamped Tony’s chest. It rolled up his throat. Locking his jaw, he stood and turned hooded eyes toward the mouth of the cave. They would be out there waiting, the people responsible. Baring his teeth in a furious grimace, Tony slapped the face mask down and stomped out to meet them.

As he predicted, Tony had a brief, blurred impression of men arrayed in the valley below the cave entrance. Upon seeing him they gave battle cries and launched a barrage of automatic weapons fire at him. Tony braced himself, rolling with the multitude of impacts and waiting for his vision to adjust to the desert sun. When the shooting finally died down, he growled, “My turn.”

Fisting both his hands, he activated the controls for his improvised flame throwers. Twin gouts of fire rained down on the valley before him. Keeping the flame going, he marched through their camp. Burning men backpedaled into crates as Tony made sure to target the whole stockpile of his weapons. He wasn’t going to let them keep one. Nothing would survive.

From somewhere up on the cliff a large caliber machine gun started firing at him. From somewhere closer by he started taking smaller arms fire again. A lucky bullet nicked the hydraulic line on his leg and it suddenly failed. He went down on one knee as the world around him caught fire and exploded.

With a grunt of effort, he strained to get back to his feet. The heat singed him. The roar of the flames and the screams of the men deafened him. He needed to be upright to activate the launchers or he‘d end up dying there after all. A final desperate push allowed him to pull his leg back straight. As soon as he was standing he hit the switch for the rockets.

Just before the whole camp went up in a massive explosion, the rockets kicked in and Tony felt the ground disappear beneath him. His vision filled with fire until he cleared the top of the explosion. Then, he saw nothing but blue sky for the first time in months. It didn’t last long.

Within a moment the boosters sputtered and failed. He started to arch downward at a blistering speed. Around him he could hear parts ripping off the suit. Tony couldn’t stop himself from yelling in terror as the sand dunes rushed up to meet him.

……………………………….........................................................................

Five weeks after the gate incident, Pepper called with an update on the search for the people stealing weapons from SI.

“I can’t believe it,” Angela repeated for the second time. She had the email Pepper had sent her, complete with pictures, open on the computer.

“It makes sense. The Deputy Director of Inventory, an acquisitions agent, Hoeft from IT, and a foreman in Safety.” Pepper sighed. “Obadiah was furious. They were all discretely arrested leaving the building yesterday.”

Angela shook her head, discretely arrested was better than they deserved. She wished she could personally get her hands on them. Her bloodthirstiness disturbed her only slightly. It was an ugliness she was slowly recognizing in herself. “Is Mr. Stane sure there was only four of them? The instances of theft seemed systemic.”

“He’s fairly certain, but I know he’s had the efficiency and security teams up in his office several times.” Angela could hear the echo of Pepper’s heels clicking across a hard floor. “There’s a meeting next week about some company wide changes, so I imagine we’ll hear more then. I don’t think the search has so much ended, more that it’s died down.”

“Well, that’s slightly comforting.” It was good that something was finally being done about the mess. After a few weeks, she had started to worry that despite Stane’s words to the contrary, her concerns had been dismissed.

“I can’t imagine how you felt when you started putting pieces together. I wish you had told me more the day that you called and asked for a meeting,” Pepper chided.

“You know how it can be around the office, or even out of it.” Angela rubbed the back of her neck with her left hand. She‘d been hunched over at her workbench all morning, going through the options for a mini nuclear-type reactor.

All her theories up to that point had been paper only. She’d finally built a prototype. It made her stomach squirm in discomfort.

Distracting herself, she continued. “If people are aware you work at Stark Industries, especially if you have a role they deem important, you can never be safe speaking on a phone.”

“Too true,” Pepper agreed with a sigh. “You know we miss you here,” the woman commented, changing subjects.

“I know. I miss being there too.” It wasn’t quite true. Angela was becoming certain she could never go back to her previous role with Stark Industries. She wasn’t sure where that left her, except for in a basement lab in Aviano.

“Still working the problem?” Pepper asked.

Familiar frustration welled within her. “Yeah. It’s one of those stubborn ones.” From across the line a cultured British voice greeted Pepper. “Is that JARVIS?” Angela wondered.

Pepper huffed a breath through her nose. “Yes. I’ve been making sure that the place has been taken care of. It’s still on the schedule for the staff, but it makes me feel better to visit in person.”

Angela nodded to herself. She could see how that would be true for Pepper. The woman spent a lot of time in the Malibu complex.

“I miss him,” Pepper admitted.

Angela had a memory flash of her boss smirking in triumph at her from across a worktable. “Me too,” she agreed.

“Really?” Pepper chuckled in disbelief.

Angela made a hum in her throat. “He’s the worst kind of collaborator, but also the best. If that makes sense to you?”

“You know,” Pepper’s voice was amused, “It really does.”

“God,” Angela sighed, allowing herself to be diverted to relatively more pleasant memories. “Do you know how many times I wanted to reach through the computer and slap that man?”

“Probably as often as I wanted to do it in person,” the red head quipped.

“I don’t know, when we actually worked together in person I wanted to hit him a lot more.” Angela snorted. “One time, Jessica, the intern we hired last fall, actually caught me standing behind Mr. Stark with my fist raised.”

“Did he see you?” Pepper asked.

“No.” Angela shook her head again, even though she knew Pepper couldn’t see it. “I managed to drop it before he turned around.”

Pepper snuffled a quick sound of mirth. “It’s why she was your new favorite, wasn’t it?”

Angela’s lips twisted wryly. “She was mouthing at me to ‘do it’ the whole time he was disassembling the control actuator we’d assembled just that morning. Of course that’s why she was my favorite.”

The red head gave a long sigh before she tentatively asked, “Do you think he’ll ever be found?”

Angela took in the new twist to the question. She knew for the PA it still meant ‘do you think he’s alive?’ “You and Jim,” Angela commented tiredly. “Every time I talk to one of you it seems like you both ask that question.”

“Do you see Rhodey much?” Pepper asked.

Angela breathed through her nose. “No,” she admitted. “He’s been back twice and only for a day or two at a time.”

Pepper made a low hum before explaining. “It’s not just for me that I ask, though it’s nice to hear you say you still think he‘s alive. I just think it’s important that the people who still believe that hear it from one another.” Pepper gave another sad sigh. “It seems like more and more everyone else assumes he’s dead.”

“Ten years after I see them bury the body, Pepper,” Angela obliging assured. “Leave it to Mr. Stark to be out on one of his constitutionals and not realize that everyone thought he was dead.”

Pepper made a short sound of amusement. “Constitutionals, that‘s an interesting way of wording it. I may borrow it.”

“Feel free,” Angela chuckled. “It does handily cover everything from lab binges to,” she hesitated, “Other binges.”

They both broke into juvenile snickers. Their boss had been known to fly to other countries on a whim for things like parties, or food from a specific restaurant. Not to mention the memorable time he’d disappeared with a yacht full of women. Stories like that were legend at SI.

“It seems like such a long time ago we both started working for him,” Pepper mused.

“Oh, it was. Fifteen years ago actually. I wasn’t even twenty five,” Angela said wistfully.

“Neither was I,” Pepper drawled. “And now look at us,” she continued softly.

‘Yeah,’ Angela thought, her mood taking a nose dive. She glanced around the poorly lit concrete room. ‘Look where I got myself.’ She picked the prototype she was working on up and hefted it in her hand.

After a moment of silent contemplation the red head picked the conversation back up. “I wish you’d come back. It sounds so lonely there.” Angela could hear the frown in Pepper’s voice.

“It is,” she agreed. “I’ve had to take in some hard truths,” she confessed. “But I’m working on it.”

Pepper made a sympathetic noise.

“First transport back is another month out,” Angela reminded. “Besides I really have nowhere to go until I get this stubborn, major, design flaw fixed.” With each descriptor, she banged the un-working prototype against the bench. It sparked noisily and singed her fingers. She dropped it and swore.

Pepper let out a peal of laughter at the sounds of destruction from Angela‘s end of the call. “It’s probably a good thing the two of you haven’t shared physical lab space for long stretches of time. You would blow it up.”

“He would blow it up. It would be his fault,” Angela claimed. She toed the mangled piece of tech. It fizzed miserably.

“You would both blow it up. And you would both blame each other,” Pepper informed her in an amused, knowing voice.

“Agree to disagree,” Angela hedged. She might blow it up, a little. It would be in self defense, though.

There was a tone from Pepper’s side of the phone. “I have to take this,” she said apologetically.

“Work, work, work,” Angela teased.

“Always,” the red head agreed. “Bye, Angie.”

“Bye, Pepper.” Angela leaned back in her chair after the line went dead. She tilted her head up to the ceiling and closed her eyes, feeling even more lonely than she had before.

Her eyes trailed down to the broken piece of tech on the floor. Twelve weeks working and nothing to show for it but a list of things that wouldn’t work. Angela wondered if maybe all she was good at creating any more were things that killed people.

……………………………….........................................................................

With a jarring hollow thud, Tony landed in the sand dune. For a moment he blacked out. When he came to again he was half buried, with pieces of the suit strewn around him. Pulling the mask off, he took a look around and estimated that the flight hadn’t taken him all that far. As fast as his shocked fingers could manage, Tony started prying the ruined tech off of him. He needed to get further.

He spent several long moments digging himself out before starting an uneven jog across the dunes. For as far as he could see around him was uninhabited desert. He had no idea which direction to go.

As the sun traveled across the sky, he pulled his jacket off to wrap around his head. Heat beat down on his unprotected shoulders and he gradually slowed to a walk. His muscles ached. He was pretty sure the landing had dislocated his shoulder and messed something up in his leg. Tony could only roughly judge how long he’d been out there. It was a span of time sufficient enough for his vision to start wavering and his legs to feel watery.

The inventor took a moment to acknowledge that he may have gotten as far as he had only to die in the desert and never be found. If people had stopped looking for him, then by the time the government investigated the massive explosion that he had caused, he could already be dead of dehydration. There wasn’t any other choice though, so Tony continued to meander his way through the desert.

At first he thought he was wishing for the sound so much that he was hallucinating. Then, from over the edge of his sightline a pair of helicopters appeared. His mouth dropped open is disbelief, and hope welled up within him.

When the helicopters got close enough for him to make out they were US military, exhilaration and joy flooded him. The exhaustion melted off his shoulders and he began to wave them down with his good arm. They circled back, and relief hit him so strongly that he dropped to his knees in the sand.

When they landed, five people in air force gear got out of the chopper and ran across the dunes to him. Tony recognized one of them as Rhodey. ‘Oh thank God,’ he thought. It was over. Tony just tried to breathe.

Rhodey crouched in front of him. The smart ass had the cheek to ask him, “How was the fun-vee?”

Tony closed his eyes and gave a bittersweet smile.

Gently, Rhodey put his hand on Tony‘s sunburned shoulder. “Next time you ride with me. Okay?”

Feeling boneless, Tony leaned into his friend’s out stretched arm.

When he was finally situated in the helicopter, he asked Rhodey a question that had been bothering him for three months. “Did she make it?” He wasn’t one hundred percent sure he wanted to know the answer.

Rhodey’s voice came through the headset he had on. “Angela?”

Tony nodded and tried to ignore the med tech working on him. His eyes were already starting to sag shut.

“She made it,” Rhodey assured.

Tony spine slumped in pure relief. Rhodey wasn’t finished, though.

“She’s at Aviano. You‘ll see her when you get there,” Rhodey continued.

His eyes snapped back open and he frowned. Angela was in Italy. “Why?” He questioned.

Rhodey’s mouth turned down into a grimace. “There were some complications.” When Tony’s eyes widened, Rhodey waved an arm. “Don’t sweat so much man. That woman is tough as hell.” Tony felt his eyebrows raise. Whatever she’d done had apparently impressed Rhodey quite a lot.   
“Just take it easy. Once we get you cleaned up and checked out, I promise I’ll take you to see her.”

It was the best he was going to get from his friend, so Tony nodded and settled in for the ride.

……………………………….........................................................................

Notes: I’m going on vacation with limited access to a computer, so you get an update early. There won’t be another update until 12th. Happy reading.


	11. Reunion

_Disclaimer: I’ve said it already. I don’t own Iron Man. I don’t own XYLØ. Nadda. Nothing. Bubkiss. However I have tossed the two together like a salad. Wish I’d bought bacon and croutons._

 

Chapter 10: Reunion

XYLØ- Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea

“Yeah. You’ve checked me out, Trapper John. Thanks.” Tony brushed off the two young medical personnel that were far too interested in his arc reactor. He caught a few hushed whispers about it being ‘like hers,’ and then ‘no, different.’ Tony wondered, with a vague sort of dread, what the hell that was about. “Rhodey,” he called, feeling even more anxious to get moving.

“You cleared?” Rhodey asked, walking across the hanger.

Tony hopped gingerly off the table. “Yup.”

Reaching him, Rhodey slung an arm around his waist. The Colonel guided him toward a wheelchair but Tony veered away. He didn’t want to be pushed around in the thing like an invalid. He heard his companion give a sigh, then felt the arm wrap more securely around his torso. “Brass wants to debrief.”

“After. I want to see Angela,” Tony side-eyed his friend. “You’ve been deliberately avoiding.” And, Tony thought, he wanted that last image he had of her replaced with something better. He didn’t want to remember the horror in her eyes, or the split second after when he saw her feet leave the ground.

“Alright,” Rhodey sighed. “We’ll head to her lab. That’s where she spends most of her time, day or night,” he groused.

Together the two of them navigated out of the hanger and around to a jeep. Tony was glad it wasn’t another humvee. He didn’t know how he’d react to that. A short drive later they parked behind a building across from the medical center.

They entered the low brick complex, descending a level below ground. Tony wrinkled his nose at the artificial lighting and closed in feeling so soon after the cave. Knowing his goal was in sight was the only thing that pushed him forward.

At the end of the hall Rhodey reached out and knocked on the metal door in front of them. From inside they heard the sound of a rolling chair on concrete, then steps pacing toward the door. When it opened, Tony tried to keep his expression clear.

His first thought was that Angela’s green eyes looked too large in her face. For a fraction of a second her attention switched from Rhodey to himself without understanding, then the recognition kicked in. She sucked in a great lung full of air, her shoulders and head bowing forward as if she’d been kicked in the chest. Surprise stretched her features and she took two quick steps towards him. A dainty hand cupped the back of his shoulder as she gently pressed the side of her chest to his. With Rhodey on one side, and the sling on the other, he couldn’t hug her back. He actually regretted the inability.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she whispered. Her breath stirred the hair by his ear and Tony let his eyes fall closed at the relief in her tone.

She pulled back and turned to Rhodey, blinking rapidly and holding herself stiffly. “Have you called Pepper yet?” Rhodey nodded and Angela smothered a grin. “Did she cry?”

Tony noticed the flush on her own cheeks and how her eyes seemed shiny. He glanced down.

The Colonel just smiled enigmatically. Angela blew a breath out at his reticence. “Fine. Don’t tell me, Jim. I’ll call her later.”

Tony thought that her voice sounded different. Though it was possible that he was just remembering it differently. It took his brain a second to stop being distracted by the banter and really process what he was seeing. When he did, his knees went weak.

“Whoa,” Rhodey yelped, shifting his grip. “Let’s get you set down.”

“Oh,” Angela jolted. She back peddled quickly and gestured to a worn green couch along the wall.

Rhodey slid Tony down into the cushions until he was sitting upright. Tony didn’t really notice the move. All his attention tunneled in on the wires snaking from Angela’s chest. A chill rolled up the back of his neck.

Above him Rhodey and Angela had a conversation regarding Rhodey’s need to be somewhere for a quick meeting. Angela assured the man she had his number and could handle things before the discussion was slowly drowned out by a low buzzing in Tony’s ears. He shook his head, feeling like he had water in his ears. He couldn‘t get a good breath of air.

There was no denying what he was seeing. Angela had something in her chest, though it was partially obscured by the pale olive button up she had on. The wires trailed between two of the buttons and his eyes followed them down to her right hand. A corner of his mind already knew what would be in that hand.

When his gaze landed on the battery, his mouth dried up and he swallowed convulsively. A phantom of remembered pain unfolded within him. Tony could feel himself shaking as he remembered the rough gauze against his fingertips, the sudden solid impact of a metal rim against his digits. That was from Yinsen. But Yinsen was in the cave. Angela was never in the cave. How had it happened?

Reaching an unsteady hand forward he tugged free two of the buttons on her shirt. Tony ignored her indignant grunt. “Let me see.” The words slipped out between numb lips.

Angela shifted, then stilled as he brushed aside the lapels of the button up with his knuckles. Beneath was a low cut, grey tank top with the wide, metal curve of an electromagnet peeking over the top of it. Feeling as if he’d been socked in the stomach, Tony sucked in a measured breath.

From the top of his vision he saw Angela jerk her head to the side before she gently shoved his hand away. She sat down next to him, but didn’t bother buttoning her shirt back up. Tony looked up from her chest. A grim pinched expression had settled on her face. “Did he tell you?” She wondered.

‘Rhodey,’ Tony thought dimly. He hadn’t noticed the Colonel leave the room, but they were alone now. “He told me there were complications.”

“Yeah.” And the word sounded sour to Tony’s ears. “I come with attachments now,” she clipped.

“An electromagnet, for the shrapnel,” he murmured.

She gave him a short twitch of a nod. Her face stayed in that grim look, but as her eyes traveled to his own chest they went curious. He caught her glance and shifted. It wasn’t time for her to ask questions about him yet.

“What happened?” He wondered.

Angela raised a dark, haughty brow, and stared at him in silence. With a peevish expression, Tony elaborated, “After that.”

She pursed her lips. “Jim got me here.” Her gaze trailed briefly around the room. “I woke up from surgery about three months ago. It was only about two days after the attack. He got me here quick.” She tilted her head. “Better equipment.” The last phrase had a bitter tinge to it.

In a peripheral way, he was grateful that her surgery had been in a clean hospital with anesthetic instead of a filthy cave. “I‘m guessing the equipment didn‘t make a difference,” he ventured.

“No.” She shook her head. “The doctors told me I had about forty eight hours left to live or I could opt to have another surgery that would kill me quicker.” And her voice was rougher, Tony noticed. He wondered if it was from physical damage or something else. “They couldn’t get all the shrapnel out, you know,” she continued. “So they wanted to go in again.” Angela shrugged her shoulders in a way that came off as both dismissive and angry.

Tony felt his head bob lightly. He did know. He also knew her retelling was distilled to the highest degree. It left out the pain, terror, and desperation. It avoided mentioning the point when you knew you were beaten, helpless, and realized that the time before you actually stopped breathing was just your preview of hell.

“I had the choice of die, or die, so I made a third option.” She gestured a hand towards her chest. “You have no idea how many times I got called crazy.” Weary amusement wove around her words and touched the corner of her lips. “It seemed like a simple engineering problem to me. What do you do when you want moving metal to stay put and you can‘t physically touch it?” He watched her give another little one shouldered shrug as she finished her explanation.

As he processed her line of thinking Tony felt his head clear. His own lips curled into a faint smirk. “Diabolical thinking,” he muttered, remembering the reference letter he’d gotten from her professor at Georgia Tech all those years before. It was the one that made up his mind about hiring her. The day he’d met her had just solidified his decision.

Across from him, her face scrunched up in distaste. “I don’t know if I like that phrase anymore.” Her words held an echo of hollowness.

He decided to put that comment aside for now. “How’d you convince them to let you put that in your chest?”

She dropped her gaze and her smile went a bit devious, which only reinforced Tony‘s opinion of her. “I bullied a lot of people.” She hesitated for a moment before admitting, “Including Pepper.” Angela glanced up at him. “I never thought I’d be so grateful that she’s had to deal with you on a daily basis.” He blinked at the implied insult. “Sorry,“ she offered sheepishly.

He shook his head and grinned. The woman tried her hardest, but she’d never managed one hundred percent professionalism with him. He didn’t mind. It just let him know that her interactions with him were genuine. That was something rare in Tony’s world.

She sucked on her cheek a little. “I may have terrorized the chief of medicine and the base commander with SI lawyers.“ His eyebrows raised and he watched her bite her lip. “Pepper may have made the Venice penthouse into an operating theater to threaten the base with if they kept saying no.”

Tony absorbed what she’d just told him and started chuckling. It hurt, but it was good. Angela carefully crossed her arms, mindful of where the wires connected he knew. “Dr. Yuen did the prosthesis implantation. I built the magnet.”

Tony raked his eyes over the brunette in wonder. When it came to her goals she could be frighteningly forceful.

“I had to sign my weight in liability release forms,” she continued. “Then the base commander stuck in a final proviso that if it worked, the army could keep the design.”

Tony winced in sympathy. He knew that if he wasn’t her boss he wouldn’t get his twitchy fingers on any of her designs. Being cut from the same cloth, he could understand that. To agree to give up not only a design, but something so private… Tony shuddered at the thought. She must have been desperate.

“The base commander didn’t know not to argue intellectual property with an SI lawyer,” she placated.

A soft snort escaped him. When his fit of humor passed he asked, “Why are you still here and not back home?”

Angela’s jaw tightened and she shot an evil eye at the battery at her feet. “I have a tether I need to get rid of.”

Tony let his attention fall briefly to the squat, black, presence resting on the floor. He remembered resenting it too. There was always the overshadowing fear of knowing if he moved wrong he would disconnect and start to die. Showers were out for her as well, he realized wryly. “That’s not very efficient,” he remarked, and only realized after it came out how insensitive it sounded.

Angela smiled and it actually touched her eyes. “It is good to see you.”

Tony had a moment to be glad the woman hadn‘t taken his words personally. She was good about that. There was still something tight about her face though.

“I’m working on it.” She gestured with a hand around the lab. “Attempting to, anyway. Three months, no love.”

“Why here?” He asked again. “Why not at SI?” That confused him.

Angela had leeway with her lab at SI. She would have had to source materials herself, but the equipment was hers to use. Any private project was available for SI to pick up with a split in profits between inventor and company. It was a deal he signed off on with a handful of trusted employees to encourage innovation. With something so personal, he never would’ve demanded anything from her. She had to know that.

“I’m on medical leave.” She waved a hand. “Access to a lab has been problematic. The military wrote me up a deal to use this place and became somewhat accommodating once my original venture didn’t end up with me dying.”

Tony frowned at the news that she was effectively locked out of SI labs. “The military rope you in to giving up whatever you come up with to fix this problem too?” A part of him wondered if, given enough time, she’d work up a similar design to his.

Angela nodded. “If I do it using their lab, yes. I split rights.” She gave him a self depreciating smile. “In the beginning they held all the cards and time was limited. I’m not inventing anything if I’m dead. Now?” She tilted her chin with a defiant expression. “I can‘t really live my life like this.” She gestured toward the cables and battery. “I have to fix it. I’ll admit there have been a few avenues I’m uncomfortable exploring while under the military’s thumb. Especially now.”

Tony’s jaw hardened. Something was shifting slowly inside him, like the stirring of a great beast. “So you’re their indentured servant while you‘re trying to save your life?” His eyes crinkled in regret when he heard how harsh that sounded.

“Not trying to save my life exactly,” she pointed out. “I’m just trying to make my situation a little less precarious.” A cheerless grimace settled on her face. “Do you see another choice I had at the time?”

He could tell that she was honestly asking him his opinion. Angela never asked, she knew. From the moment he’d met her she’d been one of the most confident people he’d ever known. It made him unreasonably angry to see the woman so unsure.

The whole situation was too similar for him. It was far too close to the water and the fear that the people holding him would figure out what he was doing before he could finish.

He’d questioned and rethought his decisions repeatedly in that cave. The terror that if he made one wrong move he would die at their whim, or live on a tether in their prison churning out bombs, had nearly knocked the feet from under him dozens of times. He still wondered if he‘d miscalculated, and if that was why Yinsen…Tony broke himself from his train of thought with effort.

When he came back to the little basement lab, and the woman in front of him, he could feel himself sweating. She was looking at him with a hard facial expression he couldn’t make out. What came out of her mouth was not anything he expected though.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

That was enough to snap him fully out of his memories. “What?” Whatever she was apologizing for she was being genuine. Tony didn’t think he’d ever heard the woman apologize and mean it before.

She winced and whispered, “I designed that bomb.” At her words, her expression suddenly made sense; she was disgusted with herself. “Targeted fragmenting missiles with barbs that are still lethal days later? A creeping death?” She swiped a hand down her face, and it was such a hard gesture as to be almost physically punishing. “Let‘s just say I‘ve heard some opinions about it.”

“From who?” He demanded, suddenly hot. The urge to bury whatever ass had been talking out of turn swept through him. He wanted to tell her that she hadn‘t done anything wrong; she was just doing her job. In the end he couldn’t find the words to elaborate.

“No one of consequence,” she dismissed. “But my skin has been thinner lately. Especially because I think he may have been right.” He noticed that behind all of her expressions was something new. Whatever it was made a wounded part of Tony yowl in commiseration.

“I thought I was designing things that were protecting people. To find out that they’ve been used by terrorist, that I had such a large blind spot…” She paused and Tony could see her jaw muscles tense. “It’s changed my world view a bit,” she admitted.

He drew in a steadying breath and found himself admitting, “Yeah. Me too.” Because what she said was exactly how he was feeling. He blinked at the realization that Angela knew precisely how violating it was to find something you created used against its purpose. He recognized then the other thing his brain had noticed when she opened the door, she looked diminished somehow. Tony wondered if he did too.

Her body posture didn‘t relax at his admission and her next words explained why. “I have to ask, do you blame me?”

“No.” It was all he could force out in response. It was the only clear thing he could pull out of his jumble of thoughts. “Why would I blame you?”

He found himself the recipient of the focused stare he’d seen her often direct at schematics. Her expression cleared and then she shrugged. “Replay a memory enough times and your mind starts adding things,” she said cryptically. “I’m solely responsible for the Reaper’s design. You got hit by it. I thought there might be some anger.”

She blinked a few times and then leaned back to really look at him. “You did get hit by it, didn’t you? I could swear I saw you pulling at your shirt on the ground. You were closer than I was.”

Tony felt his mouth pull tight, because they needed to have that conversation and both of them were still pretty raw.

“I’ve already figured out that it didn’t detonate properly, which is good for us,” she drawled and waved her left hand.

He noticed almost all her gestures came from her left hand now. Tony knew why too. She must have read something on his face because she hurried to continue.

“Forget I asked. You don’t need to discuss it with me,” she assured him. “I’ve been holed up by myself in a lab long enough to have lost some filtering between my brain and mouth.”

There was a world of loneliness in that statement. She had to be really unbalanced to be talking like she was. He watched her rub a hand under her eyes in a tired gesture. Tony felt something squeeze in his chest. He was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the arc reactor.

Her rambling was the best segue he was going to get. As far as he saw it they were in the same boat. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left this woman bumping around some army lab. Especially while he held the key to the solution of her problem. “This,” he cautioned seriously, “Stays between us.”

She frowned but answered easily, “Of course.” He knew she didn’t understand exactly what she was agreeing to yet.

“When we get back to the States, I’ll help you,” he vowed. He would too. He owed her. Beyond that, he’d known her for fifteen years. He didn’t want to imagine his life without her…being her.

Angela’s eyes softened and she gave him a lopsided smile. Fond bemusement, his brain identified. It was the same expression she gave him when he showed up late for meetings, or poked at one of her projects without announcing himself.

“It’s so very good to see you again,” she repeated, and Tony realized she must have genuinely missed him. He wondered if he’d been on her mind as often as she’d been on his.

As he started to unbutton his own shirt the look on her face faded to confusion. When he knew the light in his chest started to peek out, he saw her jaw slacken.

“My God,” she breathed. The sound was part realization and part hope. Tony knew how ruthless hope could be.

He pushed his shirt open and showed her the miniature arc reactor keeping him alive. “I woke up in the cave like you are now.” Tony forced the statement out and her eyes snapped back to his. “It’s a miniature arc reactor. I built it there.”

It was the most he could say about that place yet. Yinsen’s ghost still lingered over his shoulder. He didn’t want to talk about it, but she needed to understand what he was showing her.

She reached out a hand to touch the arc, but only hovered and then withdrew. It seemed she knew he wouldn’t welcome the contact. Tony wondered if she knew that because of people reaching out to touch hers.

“It works,” he continued, and he couldn’t stop reminding himself of that fact. Tony tried for a sliver of his old savoir faire. “You’re coming home with me, Panda. We’ll get you kitted out with your own rave light.”

She huffed out a breath and then titled her head back and gave out a series of gusty, almost soundless laughs. It was the closest Tony had ever heard laughter sound to sobs. When she got herself back under control and wiped some moisture from her eyes, she finally explained.

“About a month and a half after you went missing, Jim asked me if I thought you were still alive. I told him I had made my electromagnet in a hospital, but you could make one in the dark, half dead.” She grinned at him. “It seems you have exceeded my expectations, Mr. Stark. Well done,” she congratulated roughly.

He tilted his chin vainly and grinned at her. The motion felt creaky. “Do I get a gold star?”

She chuffed out a laugh that sounded marginally more human. “I’ll do you one better, first meal stateside is on me,” she drawled out.

“Are you asking me out?” He teased, trying out normality again.

She snorted. “I’m offering to feed you. There’s a difference.”

“There is?” When she looked over at him, he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you poor man.” She shook her head, gathering herself. “You must be so confused all the time.”

For the first time since the attack on the convoy, Tony felt like he was back on solid ground. He pointed a finger at her, “Sass, Panda.”

She shrugged her shoulders unapologetically.

Patting his free hand on his knee he asked, “What do you say we hop a flight out of here with Rhodey?”

“Oh God, yes,” she practically moaned. He blinked at her. “I can be packed in less than ten minutes.”

Tony frowned. “I feel like this trip has spoiled Italy for you,” he quipped, getting up. He waited for her to stand. “Anything in here you need?”

She hummed and trotted over to the work bench to scoop up a notebook. “No sense giving them something for free.”

Tony nodded in agreement. He was still a bit sore over her treatment by the military.

“And yes,” she continued, surprising him by wrapping her left arm around his waist and taking some of his weight. “This trip has ruined Italy for me.”

“You just haven’t seen the good parts,” he assured, relaxing slightly into her hold.

“I got tired of the wine,” she complained.

When they made it to the door, Tony was careful not to cause Angela’s right side to knock into the frame. She noticed and gave him that fond look again.

“I am so looking forward to getting back to the states,” she admitted.

The two of them leaned against each other and shuffled down the hall. “Me too,” Tony agreed. “Cheeseburgers,” he mumbled.

Angela snorted a laugh and it finally sounded half alive. “I knew you’d be a cheap date.”

……………………………….........................................................................

Notes: Finally got the two back together. *throws small party*


	12. Last Night in Italy

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Still Corners. Nor do I own Iron Man. I just threw them both in a chipper and used the results as mulch. I think I might have killed my garden._

 

Chapter 11: Last Night in Italy

Still Corners- The Trip

Angela waited until Stark had entered the room for his debriefing before ducking into an alcove and calling Mike. It was one in the afternoon on a Tuesday in Cleveland, so her brother was back at work. It only took him four rings to answer regardless.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Genie? What’s going on?” In the background she could hear a few doors close. He was probably close to the hospital floor and not back in his office. Angela usually made it a point to call him on his way in or on his lunch. She knew working hours were hectic for him.

“I’m headed back to Malibu,” she informed him, “Probably tomorrow.”

There was a beat of hesitation before he carefully asked, “Does this mean you’ve solved your problem?” Angela smiled. She could hear the carefully guarded hope in his tone. It echoed her own feelings.

“No,” she answered. “But someone else did and they offered to help me out. So, I’m going back with them.”

She still couldn’t believe what she‘d seen. The reactor in SI’s power plant was a huge, unwieldy thing. To scale that tech down to the size of a softball was comparable to someone taking the EDVAC down to a smartphone in one generation. And Stark had probably made it out of scrap.

Beyond her marveling at his genius and sheer guts, she was bowled over by the idea that he was going to share the mini arc with her. Angela was reminded anew that for all her boss could seem an irresponsible, shallow, playboy, he had a good heart. She vowed that she would be worthy of the trust he was showing her.

“Someone else did?” Mike asked, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah,” she repeated, struck by how strange her life was. “I can’t get into it over the phone, but keep an eye out for breaking news starting tomorrow probably.”

“Breaking news,” he murmured. As she expected, it only took him a moment to put things together. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “I cannot believe it.”

“Believe it,” she drawled. Leaning back against the wall, she asked, “I don’t have to re-warn you about keeping stuff quiet, do I?”

Mike huffed at her, unimpressed by her chiding. “Of course not. That’s really great, Genie. I’m glad he made it, and not just for your sake.” There was a pause and then the sounds of the hospital behind him completely faded away. “He figured it out and he’s going to help you, so you’ll be staying with the company?”

“Maybe.” Angela glanced at the door the briefing was taking place behind. “I don’t know how long it will take, but…” She licked her lips. “I’m going to see if there’s another division I can move into. I can’t do what I was doing anymore.”

He let out a heavy breath again. “Take your time. Don’t make a hasty decision. I know you’ve been feeling guilty, that’s natural.” Angela flipped some hair out of her eyes, irritated with her brother for psychoanalyzing her. “But don’t let it stop you from doing what you’re good at,” he counseled. After a pause Mike‘s voice went bright and teasing. “And give the man a minute before you jump all over him about another job.”

She chuckled. “I will. I think we’ll both be occupied for a bit anyway,” she confided.

“Do you want me to meet you at the airport when you get home?” He asked.

“No,” she answered immediately. “Like I said, busy. Let me get things around before you pounce on me.”

“Alright. I hate to cut this short but I sort of stepped out of a consultation,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Michael Timothy,” she scolded.

“I thought it was an emergency,” he defended himself.

She made a disbelieving noise. “You are going to lose your job doing things like that,” she reprimanded.

Mike scoffed. “Says the woman who can’t stop smart mouthing her boss.”

“He thinks it‘s amusing and is unlikely to fire me,” she shot back. “Go. Be a doctor. I love you. I’ll call you later. Maybe skype the young one’s later this week, okay?”

“Alright. Love you too. Bye,” he ended.

She told him bye and then hung up the phone. The door across from her still hadn’t opened. It didn’t surprise her; she’d only been on the phone for around five minutes.

Restless, she flicked through her contact list. It was ten in the morning in Malibu. Making up her mind, she dialed and waited for the woman to pick up.

“Potts,” the red head answered professionally. She sounded like she might have a trace of a head cold.

“Do you know who is currently in the room across from where I am standing?” Angela asked teasingly.

Pepper gave a little laugh and a sniff. “How is he?”

Angela paused to consider her words. “A bit banged up around the edges but still himself. He’s in debriefing with base command right now so I expect him to come bursting out at any moment.” The woman on the other end of the line chuckled wetly. “You might want to tell Happy to prepare for a food run when we get there,” Angela warned. “He’s been muttering under his breath about wanting real American cheeseburgers.”

Pepper groaned. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She considered hinting to Pepper that Stark had solved her power problem, but didn’t want to lead the woman down the path to wondering why the boss would have a fix for it so soon.

There was a long silence on the other end, punctuated by Pepper’s sniffle. Finally the red head added, “I’m just so relieved.”

“I think everyone will be,” Angela admitted. She, herself, felt as if she had dropped a heavy weight. After another few seconds she commented, “You should probably use this time to take a break.”

Pepper gave a grunt of disagreement. “There’s going to be so much to do. I have press releases.”

Angela cut the other woman off before she spiraled into a list of things she needed to do. “I know. But give yourself thirty minutes, take it in. There is no way you have let out even a tenth of the stress you’ve been under in the last three months.”

With a sigh of acknowledgement, Pepper prodded, “The same can be said for you, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Angela mused. “But I still have something to get off my chest.”

An unhappy noise escaped her friend at her phrasing before she changed the subject. “Do you want me to have your apartment opened up today?”

Her apartment and it‘s state hadn‘t crossed her mind in awhile. “You said you were going to be busy. It can wait.”

“It’s a short phone call and a good distraction. Although, maybe you should stay with Happy and I for a few days,” Pepper mused. “The initial media reaction is going to be explosive.”

“Thanks for the offer, Pep, but no. I want to get home. And I think, in the feeding frenzy, I should be able to duck out of this one.” Licking her lips, she wondered how truthful that assertion really was.

“Maybe.” Pepper sounded skeptical. “Happy’s going to complain about security at your apartment,” she warned.

Angela grumbled, “I know.”

“What about the land in Topanga? Where are you on that?” The red head wondered.

“The purchase agreement went through a few days ago. I am the proud owner of five acres of prime mountain real estate.” Against her will Angela let out a yawn. She still wasn’t sleeping well and the excitement of the day was catching up with her. “You can tell Happy I took his suggestion to buy the adjacent lot too. Thanks for going out there for me. I appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t an issue. I think we both needed something pleasant to get our minds off things,” Pepper demurred.

“Well, thanks anyway. I would have ended up buying site unseen out of frustration if you hadn’t offered to take a look.” Closing her eyes, Angela scrubbed a hand over her face. “Now I just need to get a building plan together.”

“One step at a time,” her friend counseled.

“Says the woman who was just going over all the work she’s going to have in the next few days,” Angela teased, attempting to stifle another yawn.

“Well we both need to take our own advice,” the red head quipped. “It sounds like you need your thirty minutes now.”

“At the moment I feel like I could alternately hold a siege on the finance department or sleep for a week,” Angela shared. “I really am ready to come home and just never think of Italy again.” She doubted it would be that simple, but was unwilling to examine the things lurking in the undercurrents of her mind.

Her attention drifted to the two, squishy looking chairs set further out in the room, close to the door. “You know, I think I’ll let you go and shut my eyes for a few minutes after all. This debriefing might actually take awhile.”

“Go,” Pepper urged. “We’ll see you soon.”

Angela knew she was including Happy in that statement. “Okay. Bye, Pep.”

“Bye, Angie.”

Ending her call, she walked over to the closest chair and lowered herself into it. Her shoulders eased against the backrest, releasing the tension in her spine.

Dimly, she contemplated going back to her lab, but was hesitant to stray too far from where Stark was just yet. She had a feeling that if she spent the evening sitting alone in her lab she’d start questioning whether the whole meeting with him was real.

She strained her ears for any sound from the other side of the door. When only unintelligible mumbles and the low hum of the buildings furnace reached her, she sucked on her lips in displeasure.

Curling her legs up under her, she settled her battery into her lap and laid her temple against the chair‘s stiff fabric. Closing her eyes, Angela tried to relax her racing mind. She didn‘t think she‘d actually fall asleep.

……………………………….........................................................................

After the third round of the same questions, Tony was ready to call it quits. When the base commander called in people from Intelligence, and then demanded Tony repeat his story for the fourth time, Rhodey stepped in. Tony needed rest, not a military tribunal.

Before they left, they brought up the issue of getting Angela uncoupled from the base. It ended up being laughably easy. The man in charge made it clear that he wasn’t concerned about her going home, as she hadn’t brought a return on his investment. That comment solidified Tony’s opinion of the man in charge of the base. He was a douche bag.

It was getting close to eleven at night by the time they were done and Tony just wanted to go home. Of course their flight didn’t take off for another six hours.

When the two friend‘s exited the briefing room, Rhodey jutted his chin at a wheelchair that had been left outside the door. “Look, right there. There’s a chair for you.”

“Yeah, no,” Tony shook his head. “I don’t need wheels, I have you.”

“Well, I’m getting tired of lugging you around,” Rhodey complained, adjusting his hold around Tony’s waist. “You should think about a diet.”

Tony jerked his head toward Rhodey, offended, when he caught sight of her. Both men cut off their teasing as they approached the woman curled up in the lobby chair. Tony regarded her with some surprise. He’d figured Angela would have gone back to her lab, not stuck around for the three hours he’d been in talking with the brass.

Reaching forward, Rhodey gently shook the woman’s shoulder. She made an enquiring hum in her throat, before opening bleary eyes and looking around. A yawn, that she belatedly covered with her hand, stretched her jaw.

Her green gaze landed on the pair. “Finished?” She asked huskily.

“Yeah,” Tony answered softly. He quickly analyzed her form. She looked a little better than she had before. Self consciously he rubbed along the side of his face, feeling his newly trimmed goatee again.

Angela unfolded herself from the chair carefully, being sure to grab the strap on her battery before standing. His eyes narrowed. Tony really couldn’t wait to get that fixed. It was a reminder he didn’t like.

“Our flight out is at five. We’ll pick you up,” Rhodey offered.

“Pick her up?” Tony enquired. He thought the base would put all their guests together.

“We have rooms a few buildings down,” Rhodey explained. “Angela just made a bunk room across from her lab because she’s stubborn.”

“No,” Angela drawled, turning to walk with them toward the door and the waiting jeep. “I made a bunk room because I wanted to stay with Mike and I couldn’t move very well on crutches.”

“Why were you on crutches?” Tony asked. He looked her over again, as if he could see how she’d been injured.

“I broke my foot,” she explained laconically.

They got in the jeep, with Angela in the back and Rhodey driving. Tony turned around from the front seat and asked, “What else?”

She shrugged. “Not much. Broken pinky, bruises, and a few cuts. Besides this,” she gestured at her chest, “I got off lightly.”

Tony didn’t think that was getting off lightly at all. He had a moment to shudder over the thought of having something so limiting as a broken foot while stuck in the cave.

“Oh yeah,” Rhodey hummed sarcastically. “You were just fine.”

Tony watched the corner of her lips curl up. “Still alive,” she reminded with a hint of her old smugness. And no small feat was that, he knew.

Rhodey snorted. “Because you’re a crazy badass,” he chuckled.

Tony saw her look up toward the rearview mirror and raise a haughty eyebrow. The streetlights of the base barely illuminated her eyes. In the low light they looked black. “I am a mad scientist,” she boasted. “Badassery is a prerequisite,” she finished primly.

A part of him recognized the return of some of her familiar swagger. Tony had thought she was pretty from the moment he first saw the twenty four year old version of her bent over an R&D table, but the look she was sporting at the moment really worked for her. It was more than polished arrogance. There was something sharp about it.

“Mad scientist?” Tony asked incredulously.

She reached up with her left hand to tap a finger near her chest piece. A smirk lifted her lips.

He shook his head in amusement. Tony supposed that did qualify. He supposed it also made him a mad scientist. An answering wolfish grin stretched across his face.

A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the building her lab was in. Rhodey reminded her again that they’d be back by to pick her up in the morning. Angela nodded, hefted her battery, and slid out of the jeep.

Tony watched as she walked toward the dimly lit entrance. Her shoulders were back, her gait easy and confident. It was a walk he recognized from seeing her at work. There was something new about it that Tony thought seemed lonely though. Angela never looked back.

The two men waited until she entered the building before driving a few streets further over to their own accommodation. Tony’s eyes were drooping by that point, and though he’d eaten a sandwich a few hours before, he was hungry again. Sleep seemed the more pressing matter, however.

They trudged up the stairs to the second floor and halfway down the hall before being faced with their respective doors.

“Four am, man. Don’t make me wake you up,” Rhodey threatened.

Tony grunted a reassurance at him. He wasn’t going to mess around and miss their flight. Tossing a wave over his shoulder, Tony limped his way into his room. It was small, but probably much larger than regular housing, and done up in neutral colors.

Without bothering to examine the place further, he toed off his shoes and let himself fall backward onto the bed. He had enough time to register how nice it was to be warm, how good it smelled, and how soft it was. Right before he fell asleep he thought about Angela, somewhere in the basement of that brick building, alone.

……………………………….........................................................................

Early into the flight back home Angela scooted over next to him on the bench seat of the cargo plane. She took a moment to strap herself and her battery in before turning to him. “Do you want updates on anything from back home or with the company?” She asked.

He felt his brows furrow as he considered it. The most pressing thing on his mind was the misappropriation of his weapons. “The information you found. Was anything ever done with it?”

Her face smoothed out and her posture became more proper. Tony felt affection curl through him when he took note of her pulling on her professional mien.

“Once I was released from the hospital, I was able to get in touch with Mr. Stane. I briefed him on the situation and sent him a copy of the information I compiled.” She paused to take a breath, and Tony felt a bit of exasperated fondness that the woman was back up running so soon after what had happened to her. “About a week ago, Pepper briefed me on the four employees who were arrested.”

“Only four?” Tony asked, incredulous. There was no way only four people could do what he saw. Although he supposed there didn’t need to be more than that working directly for his company. His teeth gritted in renewed anger. “Who?”

She flexed the fingers on her left hand before confiding, “I thought the same thing about the number.” Her face drew tight, then she visibly forced herself to relax and continue. “There was Gerald Aster the Deputy Director…”

Tony cut her off. “Deputy Director of Inventory,” he finished. A heavy breath left him, and he nodded his head. That made sense. Someone from Inventory had to be in on it.

“The other three were Blake Hoeft, Pauline Mullvan, and Jason Bein.” She didn’t bother with job titles that time, which was unfortunate.

Tony was forced to ask for clarification. “I know Hoeft and Mullvan. Who’s Bein?”

“He was a foreman in Safety. Bald guy with a blonde chin strap beard? Ex-military?” Angela watched him for recognition. “Late twenties,” she added. “Pepper said he was hired in 2004.”

He shrugged his good shoulder and shook his head. “Nothing.”

She hummed. “Well, he dealt with disposal. I don’t remember him myself.”

As a Deputy at the time, she wouldn’t have dealt with a disposal peon anyway. Still, just the four? It didn’t seem right to him.

His face must have said something on his thoughts because she added, “Pepper said the search hasn’t ended so much as it’s died down.”

Tony considered Pepper‘s assessment of the situation. Obie was probably able to find the ring leaders quickly but was still rooting out any accomplices. That meant there were still potential leaks in his company, which was unacceptable.

“She also said that Mr. Stane has made some changes to the tracking systems,” Angela continued, smoothing some stray hairs off her face. “I didn’t get into detail with her about those. You’ll have to talk to her about it,” she offered apologetically.

“Not a problem,” Tony brushed off. “You were a bit busy.”

Angela frowned and then tipped her head back, making a thinking noise. “Stocks dipped when you first disappeared, but only by eleven points or so.”

Tony leaned his shoulders against his backrest. “Nice to know the market has such regard for me.”

She raised a dark eyebrow. “Would you rather they had tanked while you were out of the country?”

He tilted his head in amusement. “Point taken.”

“They rebounded by the end of the week anyway,” she continued. “Mr. Stane held a press conference and gave a speech. Something about ‘honoring your leadership of the company by following the direction of your flag.’”

He chuckled at her critique and tried to discreetly stretch his back muscles. “Anything else?” Tony kicked his legs out in front of him.

She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, Mr. Stark. I’m sure Pepper has a whole outline for you.”

“Tony,” he emphasized, rolling his head along the wall towards her. “You got to start calling me Tony, Panda. You’re giving me a complex thinking you don’t like my name.”

“I highly doubt that.” She squinted her eyes at him. “Besides I’m your employee. Not even Pepper calls you by your first name.”

There was something that crossed her face when she said that she was his employee. He wasn’t sure how to interpret it. Frowning, he wondered if he should give her a warning about what he was planning to do. Tony glanced around and saw that Rhodey wasn’t that far off. It was probably better not to say anything just yet. There was no reason to start an argument about something he had no intention of changing his mind about.

It didn’t really matter. He’d find some other place in the company she wanted to work. He wasn’t going to let Angela go.

Part of his thought process was dwelling on how to lock her down about the arc reactor as well. He was still going to share it with her, but the arc was intensely private for him. He reminded himself that she would have the same stake in keeping it private. It wouldn’t hurt to remind her of that, though.

“Pepper calls me Tony,” he argued.

Angela cocked her head at him, “Once in awhile.”

He leaned toward her. “Yeah. Well, you’re right. You’re my employee. You have to do what I say. And I‘m telling you to call me Tony.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re coming home with me and I don’t want to hear ‘Mr. Stark’ or ‘Boss’ every five minutes,” Tony pushed.

At her continued look of obstinacy he softened. “Fifteen years, Panda. Please?” He was completely serious this time. JARVIS’ ‘sir’ was one thing, and Pepper mostly called him by his surname as a joke between them. Angela used it as a defense.

She licked her lips, and Tony tried not to follow the motion. “To work in your lab, not to stay,” Angela protested.

Tony raised a hand and pointed at her. “To stay. For a few days at least.”

Angela furrowed her brows in confusion. “Why?”

He turned the finger towards himself. “Uh, boss. We covered this.” Her face went thunderous and he knew he’d better talk fast. “Okay. Fine. Apparently you need more reasons. One, the media will be rabid when we get back.” He saw her open her mouth to comment so he kept talking. “Two, I’m going to show you how to build one of these.” He patted his arc.

That successfully diverted her. Her jaw slacked, causing her lips to part. “Build?”

He grinned at her surprise. “You’re going to need to know how in case anything happens and you need a quick fix.” Tony took a deep breath and reminded her, “It’s going to be keeping you alive. And I might not always be available to be your mechanic.”

“I couldn’t afford you,” she said with humor.

Tony gave a mock considering look. “I don’t know. Someone told me I was a cheap date.”

He was gratified when she gave an unguarded snort of laughter. “You’re not going to let that go are you?”

He affected an offended air. “On second thought, you’re right. I’ll have you know I am a very expensive date. You couldn‘t afford me.”

Angela shook her head and mumbled, “Ten dollars.”

Tony felt his eyebrows raise at her attitude. “I don’t remember you being quite so sassy before, Panda.”

“You’re the one that wants me to call you Tony.” He let out a breath at her finally calling him by name. “People I call by their first names get more sass,” she explained with faux condescension. “Sorry, it’s a bundle.”

He couldn‘t help but grin.

……………………………….........................................................................

Notes: Oops. It’s Monday. Sorry. I could give you excuses, but nah. Bit of a transitional/filler chapter with some tidbits. Next week we start the ball rolling forward again.


	13. Coming Home

_Disclaimer: Nope. Still don’t own Iron Man. Also I don’t own Jetta. I did melt them both together to see if they’d make a good candle fragrance. I need to buy a cart load of Febreze now. I also don’t own Febreze._

 

Chapter 12: Coming Home

Jetta- Feels Like Coming Home

The tires squealed across the tarmac as the plane finally touched down. Angela tried to tamp down her impatience. The past three months had left her feeling like she had after first self defense lesson. She was angry, in pain, ashamed of her behavior, and mentally exhausted. She was far passed ready to sleep in her own bed and watch junk TV on her balcony.

After a lengthy stretch of bantering, Jim had convinced Tony to sit in a wheelchair to get him down the ramp. When the back hatch of the plane finally settled however, Tony stood up. Angela shook her head, unsurprised at her boss’s stubborn pride. Ahead of her Jim braced Tony on his arm, and the three of them slowly made their way down the grate.

“Watch it, coming up here,” Jim cautioned.

Angela picked her way across the last part of the ramp. When her feet finally met the runway, she looked up to see Pepper and Happy standing several yards away in front of the car. The sight shot through her. Working at SI didn’t leave much free time. Her work friends were her friends. While talking on the phone with Pepper was comforting, it was much better to see her in person.

For a moment trepidation caused her steps to hesitate. Echoes of the looks she’d gotten at the base bounced through her mind. Pepper and Happy were both aware of the hardware in her chest, but she knew it would be different seeing it. The slim, red head across from her tilted her chin up, locking their gazes while her smile slowly widened. Angela squared her shoulders and picked up her pace.

In her haste to greet her friends, Tony and Jim had fallen behind her. Over her shoulder she heard her boss grumble, “Are you kidding me with this? Get rid of them.” She glanced back to see him waving off a team of paramedics. Yeah, she wasn’t fond of doctors anymore either.

As soon as she was in range, Pepper reached forward and hugged her gently, all thin strong arms and warm vanilla. The red head barely flickered a look down at her chest. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

Angela was just happy that Pepper wasn‘t treating her any different than usual. “Me too,” she sighed, breathing deeply and relishing being home, alive.

Their moment was interrupted when Tony sauntered up beside them. “Your eyes are red,” he teased Pepper. “A few tears for your long-lost boss?”

The two women shared a look before breaking their embrace. “Tears of joy,” Pepper quipped weakly. “I hate job hunting.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed shortly. “Vacation's over.” He moved passed them toward the car. “Come on, Panda.”

Angela glanced at Pepper and rolled her eyes. The nick name was a lost cause, and honestly, she was so glad to have the man back she was willing to let it go for awhile.

As the three of them moved to get into the car, she paused to wrap Happy up in a brief one armed hug. The bodyguard slash chauffer ducked his head, giving her a little smile in return and nudging her toward her seat. Happy was always the most professional one of them while around the boss.

“Where to, sir?” He asked once he settled his bulk into the driver’s seat.

Pepper leaned forward. “Take us to the hospital, please, Happy.”

Angela grimaced. This was going to end up being an argument.

“No.” Tony lounged back in his seat.

“No?” Pepper turned her frown of disapproval on him. “Tony, you have to go to the hospital. Angela needs to go to the hospital,” she protested.

“No doctors,” Angela denied softly. She was done being prodded by medical professionals.

The red head gave her a dismayed and confused look.

“No is a complete answer.” Tony said flippantly.

Pepper pushed anyway. “The doctor has to look at you.”

Stretching herself back against the seat, Angela kept a hand on her battery. She‘d said her piece.

“I don't have to do anything,” Tony denied. “I've been in captivity for three months. There are two things I want to do. I want an American cheeseburger, and the other…” He trailed off suggestively.

“That's enough of that.” Pepper scolded, looking away from him.

Angela shot a look of consternation at her boss. He couldn’t possibly mean what her mind had jumped to.

Tony glanced between her and Pepper and then rolled his eyes. “Is not what you think. I want you to call for a press conference.

Angela blinked in surprise. A press conference his first day back?

“Call for a press conference?” Pepper asked in disbelief.

Tony nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“What on earth for?” Angela furrowed her brows in confusion.

Tony didn‘t answer them, instead he turned to Happy and ordered, “Hogan, drive. Cheeseburger first.”

Angela got her way and was able to buy Tony his first meal in the states. Just to be difficult the man made sure to order more than ten dollars worth of food.

Once they were out of the drive thru Pepper folded her arms across her chest. “Really?”

Unwilling to explain the teasing undertone of the order, Angela shrugged. She continued quietly sipping her shake and made a point of not looking at her boss. Watching the man polish off a cheeseburger in a handful of bites was disturbing. It was also kind of sad. She’d had all the restaurants that would deliver to the base. He’d had whatever the hell they made him subsist off of in that cave. Angela was still processing his admission about where he’d been kept.

“Weren’t there Burger King’s in Italy?” The red head sniped.

There had, in fact, been one outside of Pordenone. They didn‘t deliver. “Not the same,” Angela informed. She drew extra loud on her straw just to be annoying.

They were closing in on the venue, which was already surrounded by press, when she spoke up again.

“I think I should stay in the car,” she said, glancing at the hoard of people on the other side of the tinted glass.

Tony trailed his eyes from her face, to her chest, to her battery. “Yeah. Stay put.” He stuffed a cheeseburger into his suit pocket and winked at her.

Angela smothered a grin. His attitude gave her some hope. If Tony could act so normal, maybe she could keep up her own facade.

“Here we go,” he announced.

They pulled up to the curb, and Happy and Pepper immediately got out. Mr. Stane opened the door on Stark’s side. Angela could hear the elder man talking before Tony shut the door. She didn’t think the large, bald man had even noticed she was in the car.

The group moved toward the doors of the building, and the press thankfully followed. Angela kicked off her shoes, then tucked her legs up under her. With a last glance around to assure herself there were no lingering reporters, she relaxed back against her seat to wait.

……………………………….........................................................................

Inside Tony made his way through the gathered press, getting a few pats on the back and some handshakes. He approached the stage before eschewing the podium and taking a seat on the edge. Obie continued up to the podium and started asking the reporters to settle so they could get started.

Reaching into his pocket, Tony grabbed his cheeseburger. He never thought he‘d miss greasy American fast food so much. “Hey would it be alright if everyone sat down?” He watched the reporters turn to look at each other in confusion. “Why don't you just sit down?” Tony raised an arm and gestured. “That way you can see me, and I can…” Slowly the group started to kneel. “A little less formal and…” He trailed off and took a bite of his cheeseburger.

Obadiah shot him an indulgent look, settling down on the stage next to him. Tony scanned the older man’s face. He privately acknowledged that there was a time he thought he’d never see Obie again. “Good to see you,” he admitted with genuine affection.

His mentor leaned forward and placed a hand gently on his injured shoulder. “Good to see you,” he smiled in return.

Tony blinked, pondering aloud, “I never got to say goodbye to Dad.” He turned to the press, who he knew were listening, and gestured weakly. “I never got to say goodbye to my father.” No. His parents had been ripped from him and he’d had to deal with that.

Tony rolled his jaw, setting his cheeseburger aside. “There's questions that I would have asked him. I would have asked him how he felt about what this company did.” Tony reached up to wipe his mouth. “If he was conflicted, if he ever had doubts.” Not, Tony thought, that the man would have likely answered him truthfully.

“Or maybe he was every inch the man we all remember from the newsreels,” he said with a hint of bitterness. He’d been young when his parents died. He hadn’t know his father adult to adult.

His memory flashed back to the soldiers in his humvee. He hadn’t known them either. He remembered how awkward they had been around him, deferential even. Tony thought of how quickly they had gone out into the gunfire to protect him. He swallowed heavily.

“I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them,” he intoned gravely. “And I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability.” He shook his head.

There were several calls of his name from the press and he picked out one of the younger men he knew by name. “Hey, Ben.”

The dark haired man kept his tone low. “What happened over there?”

Tony pushed himself up off the riser, knowing that for the next bit he needed to be in a position of authority. “I had my eyes opened.” He stepped up onto the stage. “I came to realize that I have more to offer this world than just making things that blow up.” Tony squared himself in front of the microphones in preparation. “And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International.”

As if they’d been electrified, the group of reporters surged to their feet, yelling questions he had no hope of deciphering. Obie came across the stage, putting his hand on Tony’s chest. The elder man tried to lead him back, but Tony wasn’t finished.

“Until such a time as I can decide what the future of the company will be, what direction it should take.” He kept on despite Obie already ushering him off stage. “One that I'm comfortable with and is consistent with the highest good for this country, as well.”

As Tony decided that what he’d said would have to be good enough and made to leave, he heard Obie behind him. “What we should take away from this is that Tony's back! And he's healthier than ever.”

Not wanting to be cornered by reporters yet, Tony walked swiftly back out to the car. Happy, the fantastic man, managed to keep up with him as always. Within moments, his chauffer had opened the car door for him and he slid into the back.

Angela looked up from her phone, startled. “That was fast,” she commented.

When she abruptly dropped her bare feet back down to the floor, he noted she’d taken the time to get comfortable. He remembered her doing that on the plane to Afghanistan. It was a much better image than her bare feet running across the sand on the side of the road.

The driver’s door closed and Happy started the car. “My factory, Hogan,” Tony clipped, bringing himself out of his memories.

He took a second to eye Angela. ‘Might as well get it over with,’ he thought. “I just shut down Stark International’s weapons manufacturing division indefinitely,” he informed her.

Her lips parted in shock. “Oh,” she murmured..

Tony shrugged a shoulder. “Need to reprioritize.”

She breathed in through her nose and looked off to the side before nodding. “Yeah. I can understand that.”

Tony remembered anew the woman apologizing to him for designing the bomb that blew them both up. He recalled her own words about her altered world view.

Her gaze jumped back to him. “I take it Pepper’s spending the rest of the day putting out fires.”

“Probably,” he answered, unconcerned.

She pursed her lips and then drew herself up in preparation. Tony was expecting a question about her job. Instead she said, “I suppose this is a good time to inform you that I planned to resign as Head of Weapons Development.”

Tony‘s mouth dropped open. “You’re quitting on me?” He asked, a bit hurt. That was decidedly not a good thing.

She shrugged. “Development is included in Manufacturing,” she reminded. “Technically you just laid me off. But after what I saw over there, I wouldn’t have been able to perform that job anymore. Need to reprioritize,” she tossed back.

He hummed in understanding. “What about non-weapons related jobs?” Tony fished. He was relieved when she grinned at him.

“I was hoping you would bring something like that up.” Her eyes sparkled in a way he associated with her coming up with a new design. “I think I have something you might be interested in. Not that it will save you from the public thrashing you are going to get for closing down manufacturing,” she warned.

He titled his head, conceding her point. “What is it?” He wondered.

She arched one of her dark eyebrows arrogantly, “Wearable thermoelectric generators.”

“Really?” He gave her a skeptical look.

“I need to mock up a proof of concept, but the math says it will work.” Angela‘s lips titled into a rueful grin. “I went some weird places while I was trying to fix my problem.”

Tony grimaced. Considering the original problem was fixed by making a fist sized hole in her chest, he could buy her going weird places. As he was mulling over possible specs for the tech she mentioned, she went on to talk about an idea involving perovskite solar cells. Then, she continued on a rabbit trail about solar reactive paint.

His eyebrows climbed higher up his forehead with each idea. “Okay,” he huffed, holding up a hand to stop her. There was a reason she was the one he chose to collaborate with occasionally. “We’ll come up with something,” Tony assured her. “But after,” he reminded.

She bit her lip and nodded. “After,” she agreed.

“Short stop first.” He wanted to visit the arc reactor. It was the inspiration for his survival after all.

They parked in front of the steel and glass portico of the factory’s power plant. Tony left Angela and Happy with the car and went in alone. Staring up at the large blue and red piece of machinery, he contemplated his recent decision. No matter how he looked at it he couldn’t find it in himself to regret shutting down Weapons.

He blinked, and behind his closed eyelids a flash of stacks of Stark Industries weapons under the desert sun appeared. Behind him the doors to the building hissed open. He glanced back to see Obadiah walk up to the rail in front of the arc.

“Well, that... That went well,” Obie said around his cigar.

Tony looked down. Shit. That was not a promising start to a conversation. “Did I just paint a target on the back of my head?” He wondered.

Obie took his cigar out of his mouth. “Your head? What about my head?” The man paced behind him. “What do you think the over-under on the stock drop is gonna be tomorrow?”

Tony reached up, pulling off his tie. “Optimistically, 40 points.”

“At minimum,” Obie bit out.

“Yep,” Tony agreed quietly. The elder man put up with a lot of Tony’s crap. It always bothered him a little when he upset his mentor.

Obadiah finally settled beside him. “Tony, we're a weapons manufacturer,” he started to lecture.

Tony turned to him and tried to explain. “Obie, I just don't want a body count  
to be our only legacy.” ‘My only legacy,’ he thought.

It would be if they didn’t get things in hand. He had no idea how to do that besides cutting off the source. There were too many ways for his tech to fall through the gaps. Without Angela giving him a heads up, Tony wouldn’t have even known it was possible until he saw that stash in Afghanistan.

Obie continued over him. “That's what we do,” the older man impatiently explained. “We're iron mongers. We make weapons.”

Tony wasn’t prepared to back down. “It's my name on the side of the building,” he protested.

“And what we do keeps the world from falling into chaos,” his mentor continued.

“Not based on what I saw,” Tony insisted. “We're not doing a good enough job,” he informed the elder man. “We can do better. We're gonna do something else.” Tony thought of the few ideas Angela had bounced him in the car. He could do that, move his company toward clean energy.

Obie shook his head in disbelief. “Like what? You want us to make baby bottles?” He asked sarcastically.

Tony ignored the older man’s dig. “I think we should take another look into arc reactor technology.” His mind was buzzing with applications already.

A skeptical look slid over Obadiah‘s face. “Come on.” He gestured to the large reactor in front of them, his voice rising in consternation. “The arc reactor, that's a publicity stunt! Tony, come on.” Obie paced away from him and then turned back. “We built that thing to shut the hippies up!”

“It works,” Tony reminded.

“Yeah,” Obie admitted. “As a science project. The arc was never cost effective. We knew that before we built it.” His mentor walked around behind him again, but Tony had caught the look on the man’s face. He was fishing.

“Arc reactor technology,“ Obie continued. “That's a dead end, right?

“Maybe.” Tony looked up at the reactor, then turned around to face Obadiah.

“Am I right? We haven't had a breakthrough in that in what? Thirty years.” The elder man was wheedling.

“That's what they say,” Tony answered flippantly. He squinted at his friend and then decided to call him out. “Could you have a lousier poker face? Just tell me, who told you?”

“Never mind who told me. Show me,” Obie demanded. He gestured to Tony’s chest with the hand still holding his cigar.

“It's Rhodey or Pepper,” Tony surmised.

“I want to see it,” the elder man pressed.

“Okay, Rhodey,” Tony concluded. Pepper was much more discrete.

He released the strap on his sling to free his hand. After a quick glance around for other people, he slipped free a handful of buttons on his shirt and held it open.

Obie scrutinized the glowing circle in Tony‘s chest, his face shifting from stern to excited. “Okay,” he chuckled. He stepped forward, large hands reaching to re-button Tony’s shirt as he also scanned the room.

“It works,” Tony declared. And it would keep working. He could build on it.

Blowing a breath out his nose, Obadiah slung a heavy arm over Tony’s shoulder. “Listen to me, Tony. We're a team. Do you understand? There's nothing we can't do if we stick together, like your father and I.” He gestured between the two of them with his free hand.

Tony looked back up at the arc and grinned ruefully. “I'm sorry I didn't give you a heads-up, okay? But if I had,” he began to reason.

“Tony.” Obie shook his head reprovingly. “Tony, no more of this ‘ready, fire, aim’ business. You understand me?” The older man asked.

Taken aback by his phrasing, Tony‘s gaze darted up to his mentor’s face. “That was Dad's line.”

Obie dropped his arm, pulling back a little. “You gotta let me handle this. We're gonna have to play a whole different kind of ball now.” Tony picked up his discarded clothes, and Obadiah put a hand on his shoulder to guide him out. “We're going to have to take a lot of heat. I want you to promise me that you're gonna lay low.”

“Sure,” Tony agreed. “I can do low.”

……………………………….........................................................................

On the way to his house, Tony admitted that he didn’t have all the materials necessary for the fabrication of a miniature arc reactor. Angela felt a small amount of disappointed at the news, but he assured her he’d have everything within the next week. She’d asked Happy to drop her off at her apartment and was quickly vetoed by their boss.

“What’d I say about rabid media? I’m pretty sure I said something.” His tone was falsely confused and Angela scowled. “Hey, if you want to rock your new hardware on E! News…”

She cut him off. “They’re going to bother you, not me.”

He blinked at her. “Really? ‘Cause I think they might be a little interested in getting a comment from my convoy bomb buddy.” Angela’s lips parted to argue. “How about a sound bite from the Development Head of the department I just canned?” He asked sardonically.

“Okay. Alright.” She held her hands up in capitulation. It would be a disaster for a reporter to catch sight of her new hardware. The picture would be front page news. Besides, the chance she had to skip out of the media blitz was gone the minute he announced Weapons was shut down.

Tony hummed in satisfaction.

Angela pulled her phone out of her bag and tapped out a quick text to Mike, letting him know she would be staying with her boss at his home. She noticed there was a missed call from an unknown number and a new voicemail.

“Who are you texting?” Tony asked, leaning over to try to see her screen.

She angled it away from him. “My brother. Letting him know where I’ll be.”

“You always let your brother know where you are?” He questioned sarcastically.

“Only when I almost die, drag him to Italy, and then rope him into doing battle with doctors so I can put an electromagnet in my chest.” She answered sweetly.

“Point,” he conceded, leaning back. “He okay with that?”

“Me staying with you, or the electromagnet?” She teased.

“With me,” he clarified, dropping his eyes to her phone again briefly.

“He knows you’re helping me,” she soothed. “He’s good.”

She watched him take a deep breath and then sigh. “We need to talk about confidentiality.”

Angela settled further back in the seat and put her phone away. “My life is liability waivers and nondisclosure agreements,” she mused. “Have what you need signed drawn up.”

Tony kicked his legs out and relaxed back beside her. “I’m not going to need anything drawn up. I’m switching your job title to independent R&D until I can get an energy department set up.” Angela stared at him in surprise. “Your non disclosure agreements still stand.”

Then why mention confidentiality? Angela studied him and realized the timing of their descent into legal talk. “You want to make sure I‘m going to keep the details of the arc reactor from my brother?” It was more a statement than a question.

His gaze focused on hers. “Proprietary technology,” he reminded.

She took a moment to chew the thought over. When the knowledge of the miniature arc reactors came out, and it would, people with information would undoubtedly be hassled. “Well, it’s covered then,“ she reminded. “I wouldn’t get into specs with Mike anyway. He’s smart enough to understand, but it’s not what he’s interested in. He’ll be happy to know I have something that works and leave it at that.”

Tony nodded and Angela’s attention was drawn to the gate they were pulling up in front of. She couldn’t see it yet, but she knew the Stark Complex West lay beyond. A few weeks there and she’d be free of her damn tether. Then she’d be set for getting back to normal life. It was a wonderful thought.

……………………………….........................................................................

Notes: This is a big transitional chapter and has quite a few chunks of the movie in it. I’m not happy with it, but those scenes do need to be included and I didn’t think I could get away with brushing them off. Ah well, next week we finally get back into motion.


	14. Operators

_Disclaimer: I don’t own Iron Man. I don’t own Jetta. I make no money writing this, which is why I mixed the two together with some cement to lay down a walkway in my garden. I probably should buy some paint to cover up all the red and gold._

_Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay. In recompense this is a double update. I’ve just been snagged by real life and, in my spare moments to write, have been hijacked by plotting this story through Civil War and beyond. The ripples of adding a character and all that._

 

Chapter 13: Operators

Jetta- Operators

When they got in the door, Tony had JARVIS direct her to a guest room before he wandered off somewhere deeper into the house. Happy helped her carry her bags. His heavy tread on the stairs behind her was a comfort while she felt so out of place.

Angela had only been in the Stark Complex West a handful of times, and never on the upper floor. Upon entering the room the AI directed her to, she dropped the suitcase she was carrying on the bed and sighed.

“Are you alright?” Angela turned to see Happy watching her from near the sliding doors to the closet.

She sucked on her bottom lip and considered her answer. “I will be,” she offered, turning to unzip the case. Her eyes traveled over the curve of floor to ceiling windows. They lent the room plenty of light, a sharp contrast to her last accommodations. “I’m better than I was,” she amended.

Happy walked up next to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “The Boss will get you straightened out.”

She nodded. “I know.”

The big man gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m gonna head home. Pepper’s had a busy day.”

“Go,” Angela waved him off. “It’s going to be a few weeks before the furor dies down. Try to get your wife to pace herself.”

“Sure,” he drawled skeptically, heading for the door. A wry smile lit his face as he turned back. “Try not to strangle the guy I‘m supposed to keep alive.”

“No promises,” she mock warned.

After he left Angela unpacked, then listened to her voicemail. The message was from an Agent representing some government group. The man said he wanted to debrief her about her experiences in Afghanistan and Italy. Not too keen on the idea, she dismissed the call.

It was only a few hours later when Tony’s voice came through the house intercom. “Panda, come downstairs.”

She leaned back from where she’d been crunched over her notebook. Not having to design a solution for her power problem left her free to elaborate on her other ideas. They kept her occupied without necessitating venturing further into the intimidating modernly designed house.

Wondering what the man wanted, Angela grabbed her ever present tether and meandered toward the main level. When she got to the living room, there was no sign of Tony. She rolled her eyes at his lack of specifics, hefted her battery, and made her way down to the lab.

At the base of the stairs the locked security door greeted her. “If you want me in there you’re going to have to open the door,” she called. There was a sudden beep and the door unlatched.

Pushing her way into the lab, she spotted Tony moving around a make shift medical area. Angela noted the reclining hospital type seat already in situ.

“What did you need a map?” Tony jibbed.

She raised a dark brow, unimpressed. “Be more specific with your instructions,” she tossed back. Her boss ignored her.

“Come here,” he beckoned. She crossed the room in short, hesitant steps. Tony patted the hospital seat. “Up. I need measurements.”

Angela eyed the chair distrustfully, but climbed up onto the seat, perching herself on the edge. Her nose wrinkled at the familiarity.

“Shirt off.” At his command she shot him a narrow eyed look and Tony held his hands up in defense. “Just the button up,” he assured. “Touchy, Panda.”

With a thunk, she placed her battery on a nearby table, then proceeded to unbutton her over shirt. Angela figured she owed him an explanation. “It’s not personal. I had a doctor at the Italian base who I did not like.”

Tony fiddled with a caliper and made an enquiring noise.

“The man was far too interested in ‘the melding of flesh and machine,’” she grumped.

Her boss’s chin jerked up, eyes narrowed, and she realized she suddenly had his full attention. “Like a cyborg?” he asked.

She nodded. “He wanted me to be a case study.” With a roll of her shoulders, her shirt slid down her arms and she let it drop onto the seat behind her. “Medical settings and being asked to take my shirt off, I’m a little sensitive.”

He grunted in understanding.

A quick tuck folded the top of her tank top down into her bra so that her boss could see better. He didn’t comment about it, just worked carefully, keeping touching to a minimum. She appreciated the rare show of tact.

After feeding the measurements into a drafting program, he had JARVIS scan her. “What’s your socket? Stainless?” Tony wondered.

“Yeah.” Digging behind her, she retrieved her shirt and slid it back over her shoulders. Her hand automatically looped through the strap of her battery and she hopped off the table. Tony moved across the room to a work station. She followed in his wake.

Her boss double checked the values on the screen before murmuring, “Okay.” He clicked quickly through a fabrication program and then straightened up to look at her. “You ready to start, Panda?”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t have everything necessary for a few days,” Angela reminded.

“Not everything, but enough to get started,” he clarified.

That was good enough for her. She swore lugging the battery was making her right arm disproportionately muscular.

“Let’s do this,” she agreed.

……………………………….........................................................................

“Stop moving my soldering iron,” Angela cried. She was tempted to follow up with the threat, ’or I’ll jab it into your thigh!’

“Technically, it‘s my soldering iron,” her insane boss pointed out. “And I need it.”

“Technically, it’s your soldering iron that I am currently using, right now. Stop moving it.” she demanded.

Beeping came from the security door, but Angela ignored it in lieu of continuing her complaint. “You weren’t working on soldering when I started.” She scooted the base back in arms reach, wiping the tip on a sponge before going back to work.

Tony shuffled along a table, fingers searching for a specific part. He found it and then commented, “And now I am. So I need it.”

“I have one spot. Just one. Then I’m finished and it’s all yours,” she bargained.

“It’s already mine,” he quipped, hovering over her shoulder. Angela drew in a deep breath and concentrated on finishing her last join. She straightened back up, wiped the tip again, and put the iron back in it’s holder.

Turning around, she shot Tony an expectant look. “Well?”

“Leave that,” he commanded. “You’re finished. We need to work on this.” He held up a few pieces of what she recognized as the internal housing.

“You have the schematics for that?” She asked.

He gestured to the computer screen two stations over and started to manually thread a screw into the middle assembly he was holding.

Crossing the room, she set her battery down on the desk and leaned toward the computer to get a better look. She hummed to herself, fixing the design in her memory, before picking her battery up and walking back to the table she’d been working at. Absently she arranged the pieces, matching them with what she’d seen.

She glanced around the desk. “Where’s my phillips bit?”

When she turned around, she found it on the work table Tony was using. She grunted in frustration. There were multiple phillips bits. He didn’t need to grab the one on her work bench.

Angela picked up her battery and walked back across the space to retrieve the tool. When she turned to make her way to her table again, she found that Tony had moved over there. He was taking apart the face plate she had put together a few hours before. “Why are you taking that apart?” She asked through clenched teeth.

The man glanced up at her. “I’m checking it.”

“Check it with you eyes. Don’t check it by taking it apart,” she reprimanded.

“I need to make sure you put it together correctly,” he countered.

Angela ran the heel of the hand with the screwdriver in it across her forehead. Patience, she tried to council herself. It didn’t help that they were both in the same spot, in parallel builds, in a lab that was really set up for one person.

“It’s nice to know you hired me because you were so confident in my skills,” she sassed.

Dropping her hand, she watched him completely disassemble the cover plate. He checked a few things, flipped a piece over, and then walked away leaving it disassembled. “You had it right,” he commented.

Unconsciously her grip shifted on the screwdriver to an overhand hold and she raised it to chest level threateningly.

There was a soft chuckle behind her. Angela turned her head and saw Pepper putting a box down on a table near the entryway.

“Pepper,” Angela whimpered.

The red head gave her a sympathetic look. “Ready for wine yet?”

“Are you saying my lab assistant is an alcoholic?” Tony asked as he sauntered across the room.

Angela made a threatening growl. “I am not your assistant,” she denied.

“But you are an alcoholic?” He smirked.

Taking a steadying breath through her nose, she looked at Pepper. “I think he needs a nap. Does sleep scheduling fall into your purview?”

“Is this how she talks about me at work?” Tony wondered.

“No,” Angela denied.

“Not at work,” Pepper qualified. “I believe this is the last of what you ordered, Mr. Stark,” she smoothly continued.

Tony moved to the package by the door and tore into it. While he was distracted, Angela hefted her battery and hustled back over to her work table. She started to reassemble the cover plate as quickly as possible.

In the background she could hear Pepper trying to go over company business while Tony chattered. When it sounded like their conversation was wrapping up, Angela waved her arm to get the PA’s attention. The red head glanced at her and Angela made a ‘keep it going’ motion with her hand. Pepper rolled her eyes.

Having put it together once before, the face plate assembled faster the second time. When she finished, Angela saw that Tony was still occupied with bantering. She cast a sly gaze toward the soldering iron and the handful of places Tony still needed to work with it on.

With an impish grin, she sidled her way to his station, keeping an eye on her boss’s back. She unplugged the iron and then gently scooted it so that it was hidden behind his computer monitors. Pepper must have been watching her because she suddenly snickered.

“What?” Tony turned around. When he didn’t see anything, he glanced between the two women suspiciously.

Angela looked back at him innocently and then turned to Pepper. “Have you had lunch yet?”

The red heads lips were quirked in amusement. “No, I haven’t had time.”

“Do you have time now? We could order something in?” Angela asked.

“We just got the last shipment of components,” Tony whined.

Angela nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, and I haven’t eaten in ten hours.”

He made a dismissive huff and went back to his work station.

“What do you think of ordering from that new place down the pier?” Angela asked as she joined Pepper walking towards the security door.

“Oh, I’ve heard good things about their house sauce,” the red head agreed.

Before the lab door closed, the two women heard Tony cry out, “Where is my soldering iron?”

……………………………….........................................................................

A few days later, Tony was head down over a set of precision tools when the beeping of the door caught his attention.

“That‘s my work station,” Angela pointed out, stepping into the room.

He didn‘t bother to look up. “You aren’t using it, too busy napping.”

“Sleeping,” she corrected. Her shoes pattered on the concrete towards him. “Is that my arc reactor?” It was. “I thought the point was for me to learn how to build one, not for you to do it.”

“Yeah, well, you knocked off early.” He peered through the magnifying glass, positioning the screw plate with his forceps.

“It was one in the morning,” she argued.

“Had to get your beauty rest,” he gibed. Blindly reaching over for his screwdriver, he groped along the countertop. Forced to finally look over, he found the tool dangling from Angela’s fingertips. He never should have given her up to date clearance. “That’s mine,” he protested.

“And that‘s mine,” she gestured toward the arc. “Move.”

The woman aggressively invaded his personal space, which was startling enough to make him back away. Taking his place in front of the bench, she began taking apart what he’d put together.

His mouth dropped open in incredulity.

……………………………….........................................................................

Tony wandered up the steps from his shop, on his way to find an evening shower. As he passed through the living room a glow from out on the balcony drew his attention.

Stepping closer to the window, he could make out Angela curled up on one of the patio chairs, watching some weather documentary on her laptop. She slumped lazily against the cushion, head tilted to the side and dark hair spilling over her shoulder.

Tony watched her through the tinted glass, feeling his own mind and body slowly relaxing. She’d been staying at his house for over a week. Unused to prolonged houseguests, Tony found that having Angela around was… not a hardship. The corner of his lip lifted in a lopsided grin. Shaking his head, he turned back toward the stairs.

……………………………….........................................................................

Standing next to Angela, Tony looked down at two upgraded arc reactors. They were both glowing brightly, ready to be installed. He had a moment to observe the different sizes next to each other, like his and hers watches.

“You ready for this, Panda?” He asked, glancing over. From the corner of his eye he saw her tilt her head. Her hair was falling out of its bun again.

“I’m a little nervous,” she admitted.

“It’ll be fine.” He quirked a brow at her. “I’ve done this before.”

“You changed your own out?” She questioned.

Wiping his hand over his mouth, he admitted, “Well, no.”

Her brows scrunched in concern. “That plugs in to the back of my socket, correct?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“How are we going to plug it in?” She glanced down to his side and he wondered what she was looking at. “You’re hands are too large.”

Tony subconsciously flexed his fingers and then surveyed her electromagnet. It was just visible between the lapels of her unbuttoned over shirt. “You’ll have to do it,” he confessed.

“Blind?” There was a soft note of panic in her voice.

“I can guide you,” he assured. Tony stepped forward and grabbed the smaller reactor. “No time like the present.”

She followed him over to the make shift medical area and boosted herself up onto the chair. When she settled, Tony took note of the way her lips were drawn into a tight line and her pulse pounded at the base of her throat. He waited while she stripped her over shirt completely off, then carefully attached the cardiac sensors to her chest.

“We’ve got to be speedy about this,” he reminded, trying not to pay attention to the swell of her breasts.

Angela closed her eyes and took a steady breath through her nose. The way her chest heaved didn’t help his distraction.

Mentally slapping himself, Tony watched her hold a hand up and flex the fingers a few times until they stopped shaking. She reached down and unscrewed the electromagnet from her housing. Before she removed it she looked up and Tony could see the barely veiled fear in her eyes.

On impulse, he reached over and slid his palm down her arm. “Quick switch,” he coached. Her skin was smooth and her arm solid under his hand. Tony took in a breath to center himself.

Her jaw firmed. Then, with a swift motion, she pulled the magnet out. The alarm on the cardiac monitor started to go off and Angela gasped in shock. Tony took the hunk of metal and wire from her hand, replacing it with the connection for the arc. He held the reactor itself in his other hand and guided her fingers back into her socket as best he could.

For a few hair raising seconds she fumbled. Her eyelids fluttered and Tony‘s heart skipped a beat. Finally, with a click and a short yell, she got it in place. He waited for her to remove her hand, then gently clicked the arc the rest of the way into her housing. She lay against the slanted table back, slightly pale and breathless.

“Done,” he announced, feeling tension release from his shoulders. He made a mental note to find a better way to do that.

After a moment to collect herself Angela began tugging off the sensors still connected to her chest. She sat forward and tipped her head down, little strands of hair falling around her face. The fingers of her right hand ran across the face plate. A soft blue glow illuminated her features.

Tony remembered this moment for him in the cave, when Yinsen had clicked the piece home and he had lain there for a moment longer to absorb what had happened. His shoes scuffed over the concrete floor as he took a few steps back to give the woman room. He knew she would want to test her new range of mobility. The corners of his lips curled up slightly in remembered and reflected triumph.

Angela hopped down from the seat and stiffened her spine. Then, she took six ground eating strides across the lab. She gave a light laugh, spun on her heel, and shot the battery a dirty look.

Tony chuckled, drawing her attention back to him. She smiled, the left side of her lips a little higher than her right. Without warning she walked back over to him and gently grabbed his biceps. It always amazed him how small women’s hands could be.

“Thank you, Tony.” There was no amusement in her eyes, just fondness.

He cocked an eyebrow at her and hummed in acknowledgement, willing himself away from both their vulnerabilities. “Now,” He turned and hopped up onto the seat she’d just vacated. “Help me switch this,” he demanded. She huffed out a laugh.

Tony took off his shirt and flung it at her. She in turn tossed it on a nearby bench. “You know most women have more of a reaction to that,” he teased, flexing the muscles in his chest. Angela gave him a deadpan look, grabbed one of the cardiac sensors and stuck it a bit harder than necessary to him. “Easy, Panda,” he whined.

She smiled cheerfully and Tony pouted as they both continued positioning the sensors. “Focus,” she chided.

“Really, I think I‘m insulted,” he started.

“Focus.” She drew the word out sternly and looked him in the eyes, but she was grinning.

He smiled before forcing himself to sober. “Okay.”

Angela briefly jogged across the lab to grab the other arc reactor. He noticed it looked like there was an extra bounce to her stride. By the time she came back, he’d switched his focus and had unlatched the Mark I reactor.

Working to disconnect it, there were a few brief jolts, and he deduced there was a short somewhere. It was probably the unshielded copper wire he’d been forced to use.

He hummed. “Speed bump,” he commented.

Angela tilted her head. “Speed bump. What does that mean?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just a little snag.” Tony lifted the Mark I out, fully concentrated on what he was doing. “There’s an exposed wire under this device. And it’s contacting the socket wall and causing a little bit of a short.” He gave a sharp yank and the original device disconnected with a snap.

“Oh,” Angela called in dismay.

“It’s fine,” He mumbled, handing the device to her. She quickly set it down on a nearby table and handed him the Mark II.

“What do you want me to do?” She asked, glancing at the readings from the cardiac monitor.

“I want you to reach in, and you’re just going to gently lift the wire out,” he directed.

“How far out?” She hovered her hand over the open socket.

“Just out,” Tony said, preoccupied by the idea of someone else‘s hand in his chest, again. “Don’t let it touch the side wall,” he commanded.

“Is it a live wire? Is it going to shock me?” She demanded.

“It’ll be fine,” Tony murmured, willing her to just get started already.

“That does not answer any of my questions,” she said tensely, but reached in anyway. Her mouth dropped open in an expression of revulsion. “Oh, gross, pus,” she whined.

“It’s not pus,” he denied. “It’s an inorganic plasmic discharge from the device, not from my body.” Tony closed his eyes on the visual of Angela’s hand in his chest.

“It smells,” she complained tightly. “Is this going to happen to mine?”

“Yeah it does.” He grimaced. “And no. Give me some credit. I fixed that problem,” he gritted.

She gave a disgusted huff. “Sorry.”

“The copper wire,” he reminded tightly. “The copper wire, you got it?”

“Okay. I got it,” she replied, slightly breathless.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Now just don’t let it touch the sides.” The last word turned into a drawn out holler when the wire contacted the side and shocked him. His eyes shot open. “When you’re coming out!”

“Sorry. It slipped. I’m sorry,” she cried.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before,” he complained. “Okay, now make sure that when you pull it out you don’t,” he trailed off, incredulous, as she yanked the magnet from his chest. Beside him the cardiac monitor started beeping in alarm.

Angela held the dripping magnet up and stared at him surprise.

“There’s a magnet at the end of it,” he said belatedly. “How did you not know that? You had one!”

“Mine was different! Shit,” she cursed. “Be more specific in your instructions,” she reprimanded him. Angela glanced at the beeping monitor. “Are you dying?”

“Little bit,” he said blithely. “I’m just going into cardiac arrest because you yanked it out like a trout,” Tony finished sarcastically.

“What do we do?” She dropped the magnet on the table next to her.

Tony struggled to breathe steadily and focus passed the crushing pain in his chest. “We gotta hurry. Take this,” he handed her the new arc reactor. “Attach it like you did yours.”

She shuffled her grip on the wires and then quickly stuck her hand back into his chest. Tony noticed she didn’t bother to whine about the pus. There was a click and a zing of pain shot through his system. Next to him the monitor started beeping normally and he laid back, catching his breath.

Angela let out a long sigh of relief and quickly locked the reactor into it’s housing. She took a moment to steady her own rapid breathing. “Are you okay?” She asked him, holding her hands stiffly over his chest.

“Yeah I feel great,” he quipped. “Are you okay?” He looked at her put out expression and started laughing.

Angela squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she glared and smacked him in the shoulder with her wet hand.

“Ew,” Tony complained. Inorganic or not, it was gross and she wiped it on him.

“Next time, full instructions first,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

Tony shot a smile at her. Next time, huh?

Pulling the cardiac sensors off himself, he saw Angela turn and fling her hands down at the garage floor. There was a wet splatter. “Yuck,” she groused.

He hopped off the table and walked over to grab his shirt.

“What do you want done with this?” She questioned, picking up the Mark I.

“That?” Tony glanced at the old chest piece. “Destroy it. Incinerate it,” he decided. He didn’t want to have it out in the world and he didn’t need it hanging around his lab.

Angela frowned. “You don’t want to keep it?”

He smirked at her. “Angela, I’ve been called many things. ‘Nostalgic’ is not one of them.”

She favored him with an exasperated look and headed toward the sinks.


	15. Trust and Good Faith

_Disclaimer: Don’t own. Either of them. I just put them in a blender with ice, then poured them in a glass with some salt around the rim. Don’t worry. I’m not going to drink it. Probably. I should also probably buy some life insurance._

 

Chapter 14: Trust and Good Faith

Fleetwood Mac- The Chain

After Angela washed her hands she took the Mark I chest piece upstairs. It hadn’t seemed right to destroy it. Even if Tony said he wasn’t nostalgic, Angela was.

When she got to the top of the stairs she saw that Pepper was working in the living room and half watching some stock show. Angela rolled her eyes at the host’s dramatics. She walked over to the PA and sat down. “I wouldn’t bother watching the commentary. It won’t be good,” she declared.

The red head looked up to greet her but stopped when she saw what Angela had in her hands. “What is that?”

Angela looked down at the piece and felt her lips turn up in a soft smile. “The Mark I miniature arc reactor.” She held it up. “Tony’s.”

“That’s the thing that was keeping him alive?” Pepper asked, sounding both concerned and fascinated. “It’s pretty,” she observed.

“It is,” Angela agreed. “Tony wants it destroyed but I just couldn’t do it.” She looked up at Pepper and shrugged. “It saved his life.” She bit her bottom lip and then admitted, “It probably saved my life.”

“Oh,” Pepper looked at her in realization, obviously seeing the light showing over the edge of her tank top. “No more battery?”

The smile Angela felt pull across her face was wide. “No more battery.” Her attention fell back to the reactor slightly humming in her hand. “I thought, I don’t know,” she trailed off. “He should keep it. A reminder.”

Pepper looked between Angela and the Mark I with a mischievous grin on her face. “I know just what to do with it,” she claimed. Angela held it out to the red head and the woman cradled it in her palm. “It hums,” she observed in wonder.

“I know.” Angela put a hand on her own arc reactor. “It’s like a little heart.”

……………………………….........................................................................

“The only reason I was keen to avoid the press before was because the electromagnet was obvious.” Angela worked the espresso machine in Tony’s shop while he sat on the couch in front of the flat screen. “I can handle a hoard of nosey reporters. I’ll keep my chest covered. The world will just assume I have a horrific scar from my experience and leave it at that.”

She did have a horrific scar from her experience. They both did. It was just a bit more involved than something cosmetic. He didn’t bother commenting on it. Instead he quipped, “Twenty four hours to monitor output, Panda. Then I’ll release you back into the wild.”

He heard her huff, but she still filled two cups. She crossed the room and sat one on the coffee table in front of him. Angela was one of the few people who never tried to hand him things.

“Besides, I need to discuss what’s going to happen to your weapons development minions with you. Then I need your opinion on a project.” Tony continued.

Angela lowered herself into a chair adjacent to him. She sipped her espresso and answered easily, “Alright. What do you have in mind?”

That was one of the things he liked about Angela. From the moment he’d met her there had been no fawning, just getting things done.

“As of last Monday everyone under you is laid off.” He saw her green eyes widen slightly. “You know those people better than I do, think we can repurpose them into a clean energy department?” He leaned back and watched her purse her lips in deliberation.

“I can think of several people employed in the department who would be flexible enough to handle the change over to energy.” She smiled softly. “Two that would be very enthusiastic.” Tony wondered who she was thinking of that put that affectionate look on her face.

She set her empty cup down on the table and crossed her legs, her expression thoughtful. “Unfortunately there will be turnover. Human resources would need to evaluate everyone.”

Tony tapped a finger on the side of his cup. He nodded slowly. “We’ll hammer it out with HR.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “It might be best to start small,” she ventured. “I can think of at least one team of people that would work well together right now.” She rattled off a list of names.

He hummed, unconcerned. “Send an email to HR with their details. I want you heading this.”

A short grin flashed across her face. “Well I won’t say no.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Co-heading,” he amended after some thought. Angela blinked at him. “I want you free to work with me on arc reactor technology.” She was really the only one he would allow. He couldn’t have all her time taken up by running, what would end up being, a new cornerstone department for his business.

With a flutter of amusement, Tony saw that it took her a moment to respond. He always loved it when he could throw her off. She was hard to rattle.

“I am, of course, always willing to collaborate with you, Mr. Stark.” She answered formally.

“Tony,” he reminded her. If they were going to partner as much as he wanted, the woman would get used to using his first name.

He tilted his head and regarded the brunette across from him. Tony tumbled his decision to involve her with his idea of the Mark II suit around in his mind again. If anyone would understand his desire to make up for some of what he‘d done it would be her. Still, the suit was a somewhat vague idea. There was a lot of design and testing necessary before it came to anything real world.

“I’m laying low,” he informed her as much as he reminded himself. “If I send you with the proposal to Obadiah can you lay it out for him?”

“Yes.” There was a small pause before she finished, “Tony.”

“Great,” Tony sat his cup down on the table and popped to his feet. “We’ll do that tomorrow. Right now we need to go visit Rhodey.” He wanted to talk to the man about some principles of flight.

……………………………….........................................................................

The car had been quiet since they had left Edwards Air Force Base.

“He thinks like a military man,” Angela felt the need to defend. It was a weak defense because Jim was supposed to be Tony’s friend. He was supposed to at least hear him out.

To say the talk with the Colonel did not go well would be an understatement. He’d shut Tony down as soon as he realized the man wasn’t going back into the weapons business. When he’d tried to get her on side, she’d been forced to disappoint him. Jim may have gotten her to Italy, but there were some things Angela couldn’t do. Going back to designing weapons for the government was right at the top of that list.

In the prolonged silence Angela sucked on her bottom lip. “I don’t think you need to get your mind right,” she assured him. After a few more moments of nothing she admitted, “But maybe my mind isn’t right either.”

Tony finally spoke. “Because you agree with me?”

“Because I’m angry,” Angela corrected. And she was, all the time. She put up a good facade, but underneath she was a bubbling pot.

It had started the moment she woke up at Aviano. Being back in the states, and finally off the battery, hadn’t changed it. She was angry at herself for her short-sightedness and irresponsibility. She was even more livid with the people who had stolen, and were illicitly using, her weapons.

From her peripheral vision she saw Tony‘s mouth give a lopsided grimace. “Yeah,” he agreed. Angela gazed down at her hands in her lap and wondered if she could share her thoughts. After a long time Tony muttered, “I thought he‘d listen.”

She contemplated what it would have been like if Mike had shut her down as hard in Italy. Having him on board with her was probably the difference between her living and dying. Her eyes tracked over to Tony, considering.

The revelations she’d had in Italy were something she didn’t want to talk about, but she found she couldn‘t hold her silence in the face of Tony’s dejection. “Jim doesn’t understand that there’s a responsibility that comes with creating something.” She stared hard at the passing scenery, trying not to think about her nightmares and how much of them were someone else‘s reality.

“You were just doing your job,” Tony reminded her, voice clipped.

Angela nodded stiffly. “It was a job I chose. I am responsible for that tech being out in the world.” It was a truth that had filled up the hollow spaces in her bones. It made her feel heavy. “It doesn’t matter if someone else would have come up with it if I hadn’t. It doesn’t matter if I didn’t come up with it by myself. When it’s used against it’s purpose, a portion of that blame is mine. Jim either doesn’t, or doesn’t want, to understand that.”

After another long stretch of silence Tony offered. “It’s my company. If there hadn’t been leaks,” he trailed off.

Angela cut into the quiet. “We supplied the US government in trust that they could distinguish the good guys from the bad guys.” She thought of how naïve and narrowly focused she’d been with a wince. “But they have lapses in security too. Convoys get ambushed. Shipments get stolen.”

Tony sped around a curve and then gritted out, “And what? That’s just the way it goes?”

“I’m sure a military man would say yes, that the benefits outweigh the losses. But I won’t be a part of that. Acceptable losses of my tech do not exist,” she bit out. “If I could, I would destroy every piece of it out there. But I can‘t.” She drew in a deep breath, feeling the molten mix of injured pride, disgust, and disillusionment boiling in her gut. “It makes me furious.”

Tony cleared his throat lightly. “What do you do instead?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, still feeling raw and ugly. “But I’ll keep looking until I find that thing I can do that will make up for the things that I‘ve done.”

……………………………….........................................................................

Angela was able to call Mike while he was home that afternoon. Brandon had taken over the phone in the way only a four year old could. He gabbed to her about the math unit they were doing and how his new friend was teaching him sign language.

Later that night Angela found that the conversation was enough for her subconscious to bring on the really horrible dreams again. By two in the morning she had given up on sleep and tucked herself into the couch in Tony’s living room. She was tiredly fidgeting with the leg of her pajama pants, watching a documentary on tsunamis, when Tony’s voice came over the intercom.

“Panda, come downstairs,” he called.

Her eyebrows rose at the demand. He was still awake? That man had no respect for normal sleeping hours.

Angela stood up, dropping the throw pillow she’d been curled around back on the couch. She brushed her hair off her shoulder and made her way down the stairs to the lab. Upon entering her security code, she glanced around the shop.

“Come take a look at this.” Tony was standing in front of the holoprojector table with his back to her.

Wrinkling her nose at the cold concrete under her socks, Angela padded over to his side. She frowned at the image displayed in green light above the table. It looked like a human figure with crude tech on it’s arms and legs. “What am I looking at?”

After a moment of quiet, Angela glanced to the side and did a quick double take. Tony was staring at her, his face slightly slack. She opened her mouth to ask what was going on with him, when he blinked and came back to himself.

“The way I escaped,” he admitted brusquely.

Angela’s gaze whipped back to the projection and then bounced back to Tony. “Did you have body armor?” It was the only thing she could think of, because his entire torso and back were exposed.

He clicked something with his stylus and a more complete version of the armor appeared. Angela leaned forward to study it, realizing why she’d only seen the arm and leg pieces in the first model. It was because the first model was actually a revision of the full suit design. She hummed. “I see why you got rid of those pieces. Can I?” She reached out to the partially disassembled model.

Tony nodded and Angela pushed her hand forward to enlarge the boot assembly. She scrutinized the crude rocket launchers. They wouldn’t have lasted long. “Got the specs for the repulsors from the Freedom Line on here?”

Without saying anything he clicked and drug a set of schematics from his computer screen. Angela studied the model of the repulsor and then the configuration of the boots. She was already working through how to combine the two when she thought to stop and really consider what she was doing. She finished tapping out the string of math she’d been inputting before turning back to Tony. “What are you doing?” she asked.

His mouth was tense and his eyes dark as he watched her. “Making a Mark II.”

Angela bit her lip and looked back at the suit design. If he didn’t want to make weapons anymore, why was he making a suit? “What for?”

“Personal project,” he answered evenly.

“You’re going to keep this with you?” She checked slowly.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“What are you going to use it for?” She wasn’t sure if she should push. But if this was the project he had mentioned wanting her opinion on earlier, she wanted to know before she got involved. She hoped she‘d learned her lesson on that.

“I’m not.” he tilted his head, “Exactly sure yet.” He paused, and Angela wondered if he was being completely honest with her. “But maybe I could do some good,” he finished lowly.

She crossed her arms, shifting on her socked feet. “This is the project you were talking about earlier?” She double checked.

He nodded again.

Angela looked between him and the green hologram. If he was successful, and Angela had every confidence he would be, it would break the mold for several technological branches. In the wrong hands it could be worse than anything she had ever designed before. When she pulled her gaze off the design and back to Tony, she caught sight of the light from the arc reactor glowing in her chest.

All the lines of thought in her head really boiled down to one question. Did she trust Tony? Angela looked into her boss’s brown eyes, seeing the reflected lights of the hologram and the arc reactors. He stared back, his gaze level.

He could do it on his own. He would. But he was asking her, in his indirect way, to work with him. The man needed someone with him. Maybe he even wanted someone with him.

She sucked in a breath through her nose and let it out slowly. Tony had been just as disturbed and angry as she had about the misappropriation of SI weaponry. He‘d decided to move away from weapons manufacturing for similar reasons she had.

“I’m going to take this on faith,” she said slowly. An eyebrow rose challengingly. “Do not make me regret it.”

Tony gave her a quirk of his lips and dipped his chin in acquiescence. “Or angry Panda. Got it.”

Angela shook her head sharply. “I’m serious, Tony,” she pressed. “You know what this could be. Don’t make me regret it?”

His eyes softened and he reached a hand out, flipping a lock of dark hair over her shoulder. “Okay,” he agreed quietly.

She straightened her posture before turning fully back to the table. Sniffing at the lackluster booster system, she leaned forward to type in a few more commands. The boots slap dash rockets were replaced with the repulsors.

“If you’re going to fly in this thing you’re going to need stabilizers,” she announced primly. After a moment of thought she added, “And flaps.” With another glance down at the design she muttered to herself, “Full control surfaces.”

Later that morning Angela fell asleep in the lab for the first time.

……………………………….........................................................................

Tony glanced across at the woman sleeping slumped over on the desk. She had her face buried between her arm and the keyboard. From the angle he was at all he could see was a mess of dark brown hair and the curve of a shoulder.

Angela was one of those women who could pull off commanding and lovely at the same time. She’d mown through experienced engineers to get to her position. And she’d done so with a mixture of sass and confidence that was wholly attractive.

Tony had spent years peering at her through the keyhole of her sly, and sometimes dry, sense of humor. When she’d come down to the lab with her hair down her back, in socked feet and pajama pants, Tony couldn’t stop staring.

The Angela that was in his shop, the one he’d slowly been seeing over the past two weeks, was a woman who had left her door open. He wondered why. He wondered why now. It made him nervous.

Rubbing a hand across his goatee, he clicked to send the finished department proposal to Pepper. His assistant would make sure Angela got it before her meeting. Once again, his thoughts turned back to his decision to bring Angela in on the suit.

Rhodey was out. Pepper and Happy‘s help would be almost solely limited to moral support. Angela was the only one left he trusted who could actually help him. Truthfully, she was the first person he’d thought about.

There was a moment when he was sure that she was going to turn around and go back upstairs, but she had stayed. He had been as honest with her as he could be. The specifics of what he was going to use the suit for where unknown to him. He wanted to do something good, something that would help balance out what his thoughtlessness had allowed to propagate.

He stared at the top of the sleeping woman’s head. She was looking for something similar. Tony allowed that thought to roll around in his head as he tapped his fingers against the desk. Finally, he leaned forward and got back to work.

……………………………….........................................................................

Raza, leader of the Ten Rings, watched his men dig as a harsh wind whipped the sand around them. The tiny grains abraded the open burn on the right side of his head, a souvenir from his encounter with Stark.

Two of his men passed him carrying a large piece of partially destroyed machinery. From further up the dune, another of his underlings called for his attention. The man held up a familiar silver face mask. Raza beckoned the man to him.

He took the mask in his hand, eyes tracing over the various scratches and dings along its surface. Stark’s machine had allowed him to single handedly decimate Raza‘s outpost. It survived bullets and fire. It could fly.

The sun beat down on the top of Raza’s bald head. It glinted off the metal in his hand.

……………………………….........................................................................

Half an hour before her meeting with Mr. Stane, Happy pulled up to the Stark Industries corporate office. It had been only two weeks since she’d returned to the States, so a few reporters were still camping out on the steps.

Knowing she’d be in public, she’d taken extra care with her clothing so that the glow of the arc wouldn‘t shine through. She shuffled the fit of the boat neck and made a note to do some shopping. She’d lost weight in Italy.

Happy opened the door for her. “Good luck,” he whispered. “I’ll be waiting to take you home after.”

“Thanks, Happy. I’ll call,” Angela assured.

Once she turned to ascend the steps into the building, the reporters recognized her. Shouts of her name and a press of questions flowed around her. Thankfully, SI corporate had security guards at the main entrance. Angela powered through the throng without acknowledging them. When the door closed behind her, she had a moment to be grateful the reporters didn’t have access to the lobby.

Slight tremors ran through her hands and she balled them into fists a few times. Maybe she wasn’t as ready to deal with nosy journalists as she had claimed.

At one in the afternoon Mr. Stane’s secretary gestured for Angela to enter his office. She stood and passed a hand over her suit skirt to smooth out the wrinkles. Upon entering the room, which she’d only been in twice before, she was hit with the smell of stale cigar smoke.

The elder man stood from behind his desk, instantly swamping the room with his presence. A large, well manicured hand reached out to shake hers and he gave her a crinkle-eyed smile. “It’s good to have you back with us, Angela.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stane.” She observed the business niceties. “I appreciate the patience and care yourself and Stark Industries has taken with my situation.” Truthfully, she was still a little salty about the man locking her out of her lab.

“Of course,” he said amicably. He lead her to a set of sofa chairs at the side of the room. “I see you’ve resolved your medical limitations,” he commented as he settled into his seat. “HR informed me Tony had you cleared for work?”

“Yes, I was able to acquire a second opinion once back in the country.” She kept her voice smooth but didn‘t elaborate. Tony had been very clear about his wish the arc reactor not be spoken about with anyone.

“That’s wonderful news,” Stane smiled. “Independent R&D though,” he gestured. “That’s a bit of a step back for you.”

Angela straightened her shirt. “Mr. Stark assured me it was temporary. He’s asked I begin work on the first project for the new department while assisting with the division’s set up. As his goal is to absorb my former department into Clean Energy he felt I was suited for the responsibility.”

Stane crossed his ankle over his knee and folded his hands. “Indeed you are. I hear you have the proposal from our prodigal son?” He questioned with some mirth.

“I do.” With a quick flip, the folder she was carrying opened and she extracted the restructuring proposal from within. She handed the packet to him and began going over the salient points.

By the end of the meeting Stane had agreed with the plan and promised to schedule a meeting with the board of directors. As they stood up and shook hands, Stane’s leg brushed against the folder that was balanced on the edge of the table. With a slight flutter, a few papers slid out to land on the floor. Angela crouched down to retrieve them.

Upon standing, she noticed that Mr. Stane was peering at her chest with a look of evaluation. Without her permission a brow arched high on her forehead. She‘d never known Stane to look at the female workers like that, but then she hadn‘t often worked with him either. Dismissing his gaze, she laid the papers back on the folder.

He blinked and seemed to come back to himself. “Thank you, Angela. Have a good afternoon.”

“You as well, Mr. Stane. Thank you for your time.” With a bit more haste than normal, Angela made for the exit.

……………………………….........................................................................

Narrowed, thoughtful eyes lingered on the door as it swung shut. After a few moments of deliberation, Obadiah tilted his head back slightly in decision. He strode over to his desk and opened a drawer, retrieving a small, cheap cell phone. Dialing the only number on it, he waited.

“Dooley,” a male voice answered.

Obadiah settled in his chair, looking at the door to his office as if he could see through it. “Plans have changed.”

 

....................................................................................................................................

 

Notes: I think this is one of my favorite chapters.


	16. Failures to Launch

_Disclaimer: Nope. Not at all. Totally do not own Iron Man or Linkin Park. I just riveted them together and used them as a scarecrow in my garden. I think my HOA might kick me out._

 

Chapter 15: Failures to Launch

Linkin Park- Roads Untraveled

After her meeting, Angela was anxious to finally get back to her apartment. She stepped out of Mr. Stane‘s office and, ignoring etiquette, made her call in the foyer.

“Hey, Hap. Can you swing around and pick me up?” Angela fiddled with her work ID. It still announced her as Head of Weapons.

“Yeah. I’m parked out front. Come on out.” The sound of a car door closing came over the line. “Somebody let the cat out of the bag about you. It’s a mad house out here. Be prepared.”

“Great,” Angela drawled. “I’m on my way.” She smoothed the material of her blouse and jacket, glancing down to make sure she wasn’t visibly glowing.

A cheery ding drew her attention to the elevator in time to see Mr. Gardner and two other board members step out. The three men were huddled together in quiet conversation, oblivious to her presence. Her eyes darted around for a quick way to avoid them. She did not want to be interrogated about her view on Tony’s decision to shut down Weapons, even if it would allow her to plump for the new department.

Spotting the stairwell door, she bustled the few steps across the reception area before the men noticed her. Her heels clattered on the stairs as she made her escape toward the ground floor.

Blowing through the main lobby of SI, she was almost caught again by a middle-aged man in a suit. He’d been sitting in one of the chairs, but upon seeing her, had stood.

“Miss. Harper,” he called.

He didn’t look like a member of the press, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Before the man could catch up to her, she pushed open the glass doors to the building.

Her senses were immediately assaulted by a seething crowd of cameras and microphones. Schooling her expression and resisting the urge to bring a hand to her chest, she stepped into the valley between the chaos. Three quarters of the way through an immaculately coiffed blonde latched onto her right arm.

Angela startled. Reflexively she twisted her arm up and toward the blonde’s thumb. Her own hand then wrapped around the woman’s wrist, breaking and reversing the hold. For a moment both women stared at each other in shock.

Happy was there in an instant, his heavy body stepping between her and the grab happy woman. “Excuse me.” His hand settled lightly onto Angela’s shoulder and she dropped the woman‘s wrist. “This way, Miss. Harper.”

Heart beating in her throat, Angela discreetly relaxed her fisted left hand. Ruefully, she recognized her twitchy, defensive behavior. It was the intern incident all over again.

When they finally pulled away from the curb, Angela sagged back into the seat with a sigh.

“Thanks, Happy.” She brushed off her right arm. Angela was still hypersensitive to anyone jostling it and the woman had actually grabbed it.

“No problem.” He pulled onto the main street, headed for the freeway. She saw him glance up at her in the rearview mirror. “How was it being back at it?”

A light frown settled on her face. “Different.” The only time she’d felt comfortable had been when she was laying out Tony’s proposal. “I just need some time to find my feet. Finally getting home should help.”

With longing, she thought of her airy living room and its adjoining balcony. Staying with Tony had its own perks, bed and bath among them. But being able to relax with a glass of wine while looking out at the lights of Santa Monica was a treasure of its own.

Besides, she missed her kitchen. Tony survived on protein shakes and espresso. How he had any muscle tone baffled her.

Happy made a hum of understanding. “You’ll be working from the big house for now, right? You have the entry code for the main gate and entrance?” He asked.

Angela was due back at the Malibu mansion at seven the next morning. Apparently her independent R&D was to be conducted in a place she could also work on the Mark II. It meant she had to contact her team via email, set them up with an HR screening, and then leave Tim to manage their temporary lab.

“Yeah. I’m all buttoned up with security clearance,” she assured the man.

“Good.” Happy paused before catching her gaze in the rearview mirror again. “How is the security on your building?”

She quietly chuckled. “It’s not a high security apartment complex. There’s a lock on the lobby door and my apartment door. That‘s about it.”

“Not even security cameras?” He frowned.

She shook her head.

His face pinched in distain. “Maybe we should go over things again.”

Angela groaned. “You’re not putting me through Happy Hogan’s self defense refresher course again.”

“It works,” he boasted. “You slipped that reporter’s grip no problem, nothing like when Hammer grabbed you.”

“I hesitated because I didn’t want a lawsuit, not because I didn’t know how to punch him,” she protested. If Hammer hadn’t wanted his spy found then he shouldn’t have put the man in her department. She wondered if the doofus had ever figured out that by trying to intimidate her he had practically confessed.

“You’ve been in and out of the media whenever they want a different angle on the Boss’s story,” Happy warned.

“I know.” She toed off her high heels and stretched her feet. Once some intrepid reporter figured out where she lived again, the media would be there in droves. “It’s the price one pays for working with the Boss.”

“You work closer than others.” His tone sounded slightly accusing.

Angela furrowed her brow. “Yeah?” She drew the word out, wondering what he was getting at.

“He trusts you,” Happy answered back. “I think you and Pep are the only other people he lets in his lab. Not even Mr. Stane has security clearance.”

“I understand that. This is not the first time I’ve had lab clearance at his house,” she reminded. “Why are you bringing this up?” Angela saw the man flick his eyes to her a few times before he changed lanes.

Once they’d fallen in behind an offensively yellow truck, Happy hummed. “He never lets people stay over unless there’s a reason. And never for multiple nights.”

Angela’s mouth dropped open in outrage at what she thought he was implying. “Harold Hogan.” She was going to tell on him to Pepper.

“No.” He held a hand off the steering wheel. “No. I’m not saying that,” He was quick to clarify. “I’m just saying he trusts you, a lot,” he emphasized. “It’s rare. You should be careful,” he finished lamely.

Angela squinted at him skeptically, trying to put together what Happy was actually saying. Then, it hit her. Tony was Happy‘s charge. “Are you giving me a shovel talk?” She ventured, a grin growing on her face.

Happy mumbled something from the front.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite hear that. Care to speak up?” She razzed him. With glee, she could see the tips of his ears reddening.

“You know Happy, for your piece of mind, I do understand.” She rubbed her fingers over her shirt, underneath she could feel the solid ridge of the arc reactor. “Despite his aggravating persona, he’s a good man,” she mused.

“And not many people see that,” Happy concluded. “He needs more people around him that do.”

She nodded absently, then teased, “I’m still telling on you to Pepper.”

Happy groaned.

……………………………….........................................................................

Later that evening Angela sprawled out along her couch, a neglected glass of wine on the coffee table. She gazed dolefully out at the slice of skyline visible through her balcony doors, a frown pulling on her face.

Her apartment looked the same. It smelled the same. And while she had initially enjoyed being in her own space, as the afternoon wore on she felt increasingly discomfited. She had unpacked, sorted mail, cooked a meal. Nothing she did seemed to help. Nothing made her fit.

Outside her windows the sky faded from the vivid colors of sunset, to the cool blues of dusk. Santa Monica lit up around her. Her refrigerator kicked on, its hum loud in the quiet of her apartment.

……………………………….........................................................................

Tony scrutinized the design for the Mark II boots, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Finding nothing he could think to change, he sent the specs to Angela via email. A click and swish sounded as the program announced his action successful.

He stretched out his shoulders, relishing in the pull and burn of muscles that had been locked in a singular position for too long. A glance around his shop revealed his bots folded into their docks, blinking lights indicating they were charging. Down from his project haze, Tony wrinkled his nose at the quiet. He’d gotten used to the noise of someone else working in his space.

His eyes traveled over to the section of the shop set aside for Angela. One table held her green energy project, which had seen quite a bit of progress in the two weeks since her meeting with Stane. Another table held the tech for the Mark II. During the days he often saw her switching between the two undertakings at intervals that only made sense to her.

He was tempted to go over and poke around, but the idea lost its appeal when he realized that Angela wasn’t there to get indignant about it. He could always go over and move some things. The woman had an eidetic memory for what was on her work bench. She’d notice. Then he could claim it was his shop and he could move things when he wanted to.

A high pop of sound from his computer signaled he had incoming mail. A glance down at the still open screen showed it was from Angela. His eyes skated to the time display and he chuckled. Someone was up very late or very early.

Opening the message, he found an attachment. She‘d made changes to his schematic in the time he‘d been lost in thought. A quick skim of the notes she’d attached made him purse his lips.

“JARVIS, run simulation nine with the changes in file M two dash one dot one three,” he commanded.

Tony swiveled to his left and watched the program work through the new specs. He gave a soft snort when the animation froze as one of the flaps lit up red. It had contacted with the nozzle of a directional thruster.

Typing up a comment about not doing math before coffee, Tony corrected the error and sent the file back to Angela. Less than a minute later he received a reply. He read over the email and grinned.

“Get me Angela, would you?” He directed his AI. Affecting a casual demeanor, he leaned back and kicked his feet up on the desk.

“I do hope a video call will suffice?” JARVIS asked dryly.

“Depends on what she’s wearing,” Tony quipped.

A moment later Angela’s face appeared in the corner of his screen.

“Why is JARVIS on my laptop?” She asked.

The feed was so poorly lit that Tony could barely see the chair behind her. A whooshing noise intermittently pulsed over the microphone. “Where are you?” He wondered.

“My apartment,” she answered impatiently.

“Where in your apartment? And what is that noise? It’s distracting,” he complained.

The picture wobbled and the noise ceased. “Wind,” she explained. “I’m out on the balcony.”

“At four in the morning?” He needled.

Ignoring him, she repeated her question. “JARVIS, laptop, why?”

“First your math is wrong, now you‘re incoherent. Are you having a stroke?” He barely managed to keep from smirking.

She sneered, and Tony filed away that he found even that expression attractive. “My math was not wrong. You didn’t read all my notes before you ran the sim,” she accused.

He dropped his feet from the desk and leaned forward. “JARVIS ran the sim using your design…”

“And the thruster was clipped by the bottom left spoiler. Yes.” She brushed some hair out of her face. “Which is why I made a note to move the thrusters an eighth of an inch.”

“Please, don’t interrupt me.” Tony pulled up her notes again. He chuffed a breath when he read over the suggestion at the bottom. “Why didn’t you include it with the other alterations?”

“Because I wanted your opinion about what you think the maximum velocity of the Mark II will be. That’s in the notes too,” she chided.

Tony’s eyes tracked to the left as he hastily re-read another section of her notes. As she claimed, they mentioned the maximum speed threshold for her proposed variation was Mach II. “Fair,” he conceded.

“It’s a speed versus maneuverability trade off. I wanted to discuss it before we bothered running the simulation.” One of her dark eyebrows was cocked high on her forehead. “But apparently your ability to read suffers at a certain hour,” she needled.

“If you’re that sassy, you’re awake enough to work.” He bent forward and started altering the specs again. “Come over. Bring breakfast.”

She let out a noise of protest. “Nothing worth eating is open this early. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Ask it again when you get here. You‘ve got me all worked up thinking about thrust vectoring, you cruel woman.” Without looking up from what he was doing he disconnected the call.

A few seconds later there was another pop notification from his email. He opened the dialogue box. It was a demand that he make coffee and keep his thrust to himself. Tony closed his email with a scoff.

……………………………….........................................................................

A month later Angela squinted out the tinted glass of her apartment building’s portico. The city lights illuminated the dark humps of cars and a grey streak of sidewalk. She scanned for any motion and all remained still. Pursing her lips, she palmed her keys and straightened her shoulders. The situation was ridiculous.

She pushed open the door. The cool ocean air rustled the hair at her temples. From across the street she could just hear the waves over the traffic on Ocean Avenue. Even at that early hour, the city had started its lumber toward day.

Halfway to her car the tell tale click and flash of a camera drew her attention. Her eyes hooded in irritation. The determined photographer that had been stalking her for two weeks was getting better at hiding.

Not wasting time acknowledging the man she unlocked her car, settled behind the wheel, and closed the door. Upon leaving her lot, she swung up Pico boulevard before messing around in the side streets around Santa Monica College. By the time she backtracked to Eleventh she’d lost the car tailing her. Satisfied with her continued thwarting of the paparazzi, she stopped to pick up donuts.

Forty minutes later Angela keyed herself into the Stark Complex West. The thud of her boots across the entryway was covered by the splashes of the water feature near the stairs. Bag of sugary morning goodness in hand, she meandered down to the space that was fast becoming a second home.

She typed in her security code, opening the door to find the shop in a state she’d rarely experienced it before, quiet.

Her gaze raked across the room in search of a passed out Tony. She’d found him tilted back in his office chair with a screw driver behind his ear once. A little ‘huh’ escaped her when there was no sign of him. She dropped the bag of donuts on her desk and booted up her computer. She’d have to make her own coffee.

A despondent whir drew her attention and she noticed that Dum-E was scrubbing something off the floor behind a set of tool boxes. Angela walked over to the spot, tilting her head. It looked like extinguisher foam. She glanced over at the tile testing pad, suspicious. “JARVIS?”

“Good morning, Miss. Harper,” The AI greeted.

“Good morning, JARVIS,” she greeted. “Has Tony done any testing since I left the lab last night?”

“Sir performed a flight test approximately two hours and thirty seven minutes ago,” JARVIS replied in his smooth British accent.

Angela rolled her eyes. Of course the crazy man had. She glanced from the slight scorch marks on the tile to the extinguisher foam on the floor and let out a long sigh. “Show me any test footage available, please.”

A video popped up on the monitor across the room and Angela walked over to get a closer look. On the screen Tony was strapped into the Mark II boots. She sucked on her lips at his chosen set up, hand controls. He just wouldn’t concede to the stabilizers.

He was right. They would hamper his ability to use his hands, but they would keep him from flipping ass over tea kettle.

A few moments into the video he did just that, and then struck the ceiling. Angela’s laughter echoed through the lab.

……………………………….........................................................................

When Tony made his way back down to the shop it was after eleven. He popped his back, still sore from where he’d hit the ground earlier that morning. Through the glass entryway he could see Angela busily at work. She was standing at the holoprojector table with her arm inside a projected piece of tech. It looked to him to be a flight stabilizer.

He wondered if she’d seen the video from his test.

At the sound of the door opening Angela turned towards him. Tony could tell the moment she realized it was him. Her face collapsed into mirth and she brought her unadorned hand up to cover her mouth. It did nothing to hide the way her eyes crinkled. It didn’t muffle the snicker she let out either.

So, she’d obviously seen it. Tony closed the door behind him and continued to act unaffected. The snicker turned into shaking shoulders and tightly closed eyes. He paused at the side of the table and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting.

When she opened her eyes again and saw him standing there, she burst into loud laughter. Angela managed to gasp out a, “And then you went.” She made a motion with her hand to convey his hit of the ceiling. After a moment she steadied herself enough to ask, “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Just my pride,” he assured. “Which, by the way, kicking while down. Not cool, Panda.”

Angela snickered again before drawing in a deep breath. “Maybe this will make you feel better.” Her eyes were sparkling as she held out the arm still covered in the projected tech.

Tony shuffled forward to examine it and reached out to turn her arm at different angles. How long had the woman been down there that morning?

Skimming his fingers over her wrist, he again noted how soft her skin was. He stroked his thumb over a callus on her palm.

Belatedly Tony realized that he really needed to quit that. Now was not the time for that. The project she was working on was even more important than usual. Besides, people who got that much joy out of his pain shouldn’t be enticing.

Angela gently pulled her hand out of his and then disengaged her arm from the projected piece. Tony reached out to touch it, examining different connections and parts. It was much too small for him.

“You’ll have to size it up for yourself. I didn’t have those measurements but I needed something for a model.” She wiggled her fingers in demonstration.

“You laugh at me and now you’re after my measurements,” he lightly flirted.

Angela shook her head and raised one of those dark arrogant brows. “You deserve to be laughed at for what you did,” she sassed.

The idea that began germinating in Tony’s head weeks before came a bit more into focus. “You know,” he said slowly, peering at her arc reactor. “There’s no reason the Mark II wouldn’t work for you.”

Her green eyes met his. “Well, if I put my measurements in and changed some minor things, of course it would,” she answered like he’d made a silly statement. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What would I do with a suit that can fly?”

Almost immediately he saw her eyes go distant. Tony watched as her gaze slid down and off to the side. Slowly her eyebrows climbed up her forehead and her mouth made a little ‘o.’ At the same time Tony could feel his lips lifting into a smug smirk.

He took a step into her personal space. “You’re thinking of things right now,” he accused lowly.

Her gaze snapped back to him and she blinked. “Well,” she cleared her throat. “I am an aeronautical engineer. The chance to fly like a fighter jet without the plane,” she trailed off. Something flickered across her face too quickly for Tony to distinguish.

In the back of his brain, where his vague plans for what to use the Mark II for were still forming, he added in a variable of Angela in a suit. He didn’t expect her to desire it the way he did. For him it was part self protection, part wounded pride, and part trying to fix what he had allowed to become screwed up. But even if Angela only wanted the pleasure of flying without an airplane she deserved it. She’d worked on the suit almost as much as he had. She’d fought for her life because of what was going on at his company.

He’d apparently been watching her for too long because she shifted uneasily on her feet. A part of his mind noted she didn‘t retreat from him though.

“Size it up so we can start fabrication,” she finally said.

Tony took the step back instead. Now was definitely not the time for that. ‘But,’ Tony thought, ‘maybe later.’ He headed for his computer. For now he would consider the discussion about her using a suit tabled.

As he passed the holoprojector he clicked and dragged his stylus, saving the stabilizer specs with her measurements into a separate folder within the master Mark II file. Then he made his own available to her through JARVIS. With a moment of consideration, he brought up the data the AI had from when she was scanned for the fit of her arc reactor. He saved that in the file as well.

Was it right to bring Angela into something so potentially dangerous? He wasn’t sure. But, he conceded, she’d brought herself pretty far into it on her own, right from the beginning.

……………………………….........................................................................

A week after Tony’s test flight, Angela smoothly exited her car, mind still half on her new problem.

Tony’s shop was close to perfect. There was plenty of room. She had no issue requisitioning material and, so long as Tony didn’t need it, almost any tool was at her disposal. Angela’s problem was time.

She was working on both the Mark II and the prototype for her thermoelectric generator. The Mark II was a full time job. It had a lot of moving parts and they all had to be precisely fitted. Meanwhile, the generator was coming together faster than she imagined. It was just that she couldn’t build a flight stabilizer and link semiconductors at the same time. She only had two hands.

Wired into the house as he was, JARVIS was a godsend. He could literally be two places at once, sending orders through to Dum-E, U, or Butterfingers. But even with the lion’s share of her clean energy build delegated to the AI, Angela still felt stretched. Her poor sleep schedule and long hours were not helping.

Distracted as she was, it took Angela a moment to notice that something wonderful had occurred. For the third day in a row she’d made it all the way into her building’s lobby without a cameraman snapping candid photos.

Key in her mailbox, she paused and looked back out the glass portico of her building. No one was milling around the outside. An incredulous huff escaped her and a grin settled on her lips. She took a moment to be thankful that new news would always push out the old.

……………………………….........................................................................

Notes: I totally see Hammer as the type of prick that would start a fight, get one solid punch in his face, and then run away to cry to his lawyers about the mean woman who went crazy and tried to kill him. And hey look! On time this week. Woot!


	17. A Man in the Dark

_Disclaimer: I don’t own AWOLNATION. Have I said that already this fic? I’m losing track. Also, I don’t own Iron Man. I did throw them both in the pothole in front of my house. I wonder if the city can sue me for that?_

 

Chapter 16: A Man in the Dark

AWOLNATION- Sail

She woke sweaty and panting, a cry held back between her clenched teeth. Angela allowed her tense muscles to go lax as a tired grunt escaped her. Blearily, she wondered when her conscience would stop torturing her. It’d been five months exactly since she’d gained consciousness in an Italian hospital.

Eventually the lingering unease prompted her out of bed. She rolled to her feet, thumbed the screen awake on her cell phone, and noted it was just after three in the morning. Angela glanced back at her bed, knowing she should crawl back under the covers for a few more hours rest. Instead she turned and headed into the living room for her laptop. The muted glow of her arc reactor through her t-shirt provided more than enough light to navigate by.

She dropped her phone onto the wide, white, coffee table and stood for a short time, eyes closed. The drone from her fan and the muted sounds of traffic were the only things that disturbed the quiet of her apartment.

Opening her eyes, Angela leaned forward to grab her wrap from the back of the couch. She tossed it over her shoulders, picked up her computer, and headed out onto the balcony.

Half an hour later she gave up mindless TV as a distraction and switched to work. In the week since they’d started on the design for the stabilizers, she and Tony had been discussing suit articulation. He had promised to send her design specs to go over. She’d grab anything to keep her mind busy with both hands.

Logging into her email, she found the pertinent file and sank into examination. Almost immediately she noticed a problem. The abdomen of the suit didn’t have enough flex. Thinking of layered interlocking plates, she pulled up the dialogue box for JARVIS and asked if Tony was in the shop. Receiving a positive reply, she opened up a video call.

A corner of her screen resolved into a close up of Tony‘s slightly scruffy face. “I’m starting to think you never sleep,” he greeted. “Why do you leave again?”

“Your continued good health,” she quipped.

He leaned away from the camera with a sharp, “Ha. Don’t lie, Panda.” A wicked smirk spread over his face. “You just can’t quit me.”

Unwilling to continue bantering, she spoke over him. “I read through your ideas for the body armor. There’s an issue.” She laid out the problem as she knew it.

After her explanation there was a beat of silence and Tony‘s face took on a considering look. “You know the dimly lit, bedroom eyed, balcony scene exposition is working for me,” he teased, voice deeper than usual.

Angela rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to reply when a dim, yellow light shone through the glass doors to her living room. “Hold up,” she murmured.

“What?” Tony frowned, tilting his head.

Sliding to her feet, Angela kept her attention on the shaft of light as she edged toward the doors. The rectangle of illumination was briefly interrupted by a shadow, and then slivered into nothing as her front door closed. Her whole body momentarily froze.

Pressing her fingers against the cool exterior wall near the rubber seal of her patio doors, Angela leaned forward to peek around the door. A shadowy figure stood in her entryway.

“Panda?” Tony called from behind her.

She jolted and crossed back to her deck table in two strides. “Tony,” she hissed. “Someone’s in my apartment.”

On the screen she could see him suddenly lean back into the camera. “What? Seriously?”

“Yes,” she whispered. With a wince, Angela realized that her phone was in on the coffee table. “My phone‘s in the apartment. I can’t get to it. I need you to call the police.”

“Right. JARVIS?” His voice unwittingly rose and Angela jammed her finger on the mute button above her keyboard.

She glanced around her balcony, trying to decide the best way forward in her situation. There was no way down; she was on the tenth floor. Her teeth sank into her lower lip and she crept back to the edge of the patio doors. Peering through the glass, she had to squint to make out anything passed the reflections.

In the moments she’d been talking to Tony, the indistinct figure that had been at her door had made its way into her living room. Angela ducked back, fearing being seen.

Curiosity almost immediately had her stealing a look around the edge of the door again. She expected to see the person unhooking her television, instead the silhouette turned the corner toward her bedroom. Her eyes widened in shocked horror. They were looking for her.

She knew she had only a brief time before they noticed no one was in the bed. Once that happened she had no clue what they would do. The apartment was not large. If they wanted her, they would find her. Even before she registered her decision her fingers had crept to the handle of the door.

It was a short, straight shot from the patio to the front entrance. If she was careful, she could slide the door open quietly. After that she would need to sprint. There would be precious seconds between when her footfalls were heard and the person in her apartment reacted.

The door glided open with a subdued rolling sound. Angela took one quick, furtive glance toward her bedroom, and lunged. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears she couldn’t tell if anyone was chasing her. Sweaty fingers grasped the entryway door knob and pulled. It was locked. In the breath it took her to flip the deadbolt open, the intruder had caught up with her.

A large hand grabbed her left wrist from behind. She ripped her arm back and to the side, latching her own hand around the rough skin of their wrist. Jerking forward on their arm made them stumble, and Angela used the time to pivot and punch her attacker in the head. There was a grunt as he staggered sideways into the kitchen counter.

She spun back to the door and managed to open it before pain shot up her scalp. The man flung her backwards by her hair and she tumbled down onto the carpet. Angela had already pushed herself up into a crab walk pose when she heard a quiet click.

“Stay down,” the man ordered.

Her gaze tracked up to the gun in his hands. Slowly, she lowered her butt back to the floor.

“Good,” he commented.

The wrap she had been wearing outside had fallen loose and was barely hanging by her shoulders. Between the dim glow of the arc, and the city lights outside, she could make out that the man’s face looked familiar.

‘He didn’t bother to cover his face,’ a small, cold, part of her pointed out.

“Lift up your shirt,” he commanded.

Her mind blanked. It couldn’t process the demand.

The gun lowered a fraction closer to her. “Do it.”

The long, black tube of a silencer angled down toward her. In the poor lighting she could still see the point where metal gave way to a circular hole. Her hands shook as she reached for the hem of her sleep shirt. She inched it over her belly.

“Higher,” the man sneered impatiently. “To your neck.”

With a reflexive swallow, Angela complied. She lifted the fabric, exposing her unbound breasts, and held it up under her chin. A spark of loathing burst to life in her chest. It expanded rapidly when the man’s lips parted in a smile. Angela promised herself that the minute the perverted son of a bitch gave her an opening, she’d kick his ass.

He leaned forward and she tried to brace herself for his hands. Instead he arrogantly tapped the muzzle of his weapon against her arc. A muted clink sounded between them. “That’s a damn shame,” he mused.

That close to the blue glow of the revealed reactor she was finally able to see his face well enough to place it. Jason Bein had shaved off his shitty thin beard.

“I was really hoping to just be able to kill you,” he muttered wistfully.

Angela’s attention stuttered over his words.

Abruptly he stood upright and demanded, “Get up.”

She dropped her shirt, but hesitated.

He waggled the pistol at her. “Come on. Up,” he cajoled. “I don’t have to kill you to shoot you,” he informed her. “It’d be a hell of a thing to drag you out of here on one leg, but it might be worth it.”

The carpet fibers tickled between her fingers as she pushed off the floor. He kept the gun trained on her, and once she was standing, fisted her hair again. Involuntarily her neck arched back, trying to relieve the strain.

“Start walking,” he lazily ordered.

The soles of her feet heated as she unwillingly shuffled to the door.

“Open it,” he instructed. “And don’t make a fucking sound.” The muzzle of the silencer pressed cruelly into her kidney.

Stiff fingers grasped the knob and turned it. Bein stepped back as the door opened inward. A sharp tug on her hair brought her back into contact with his chest.

She hoped Tony had called the police.

He prodded her toward the opening with his weapon before pushing down on her head. She had no choice but to bend forward. Teeth clenching, she tried to ignore the warm weight of his body as he bent over her to peer out into the hall.

Bringing them both upright he commanded, “Walk.”

Angela inched forward, guided like a horse by the mane. Once out in the hall, Bein momentarily released his grip on her hair to close the door.

She thought about running then. Her eyes darted around the hallway, seeking escape. But it was a straight shot in either direction. He would easily shoot her before she reached any cover.

Grabbing her again, he directed her toward the stairwell door. As they made their way down the hall, her brain spun, trying to find a way out. She had no doubt the man behind her would happily kill her. That he was choosing to abduct her instead, somehow seemed worse.

When they reached the top of the first flight of stairs, Bein released his hold on her hair. Another nudge of the gun got her started heading downward. Together the two traversed one flight after another. At each hallway landing she willed the door to open and someone to step out. That same hard part of her from earlier reminded her that would only end with the hapless person dead.

Approaching the third floor she heard voices in the hall. They were muffled by the door, but very real. Her heart jumped up into her throat. The muscles worked, but she couldn’t swallow. Bein again fisted her hair and jerked her to a halt.

They stood there in the dimly lit stairwell, listening, for what felt like a full minute. What they were waiting for she didn’t know. The voices did not go away, but neither did they come closer. Eventually, Bein prodded her on. Once they crossed the landing, he released his grip.

Angela strained her ears for police sirens. Surely the Santa Monica PD had been given sufficient time to reach her. Though she wondered if, at hearing the sirens, Bein wouldn’t just shoot her.

Moments later, her bare feet hit the ground floor landing and she stared ahead at the door to the lobby. If she went out there it was a matter of meters before she was outside the building. If she went outside the building, she was not coming back in alive. The gun, which had taken on her body heat where it had been pressed against her, suddenly felt cold.

At her hesitation the muzzle of the weapon was lifted to fit behind her right ear. “I will shoot you right here and now,” Bein warned. “I’d actually prefer it. So you’re either going to do what I tell you unquestioningly from here on out, or my night‘s going to end a little early.”

By degrees, her feet carried her toward the door. Her mind flashed through a dozen different ideas, all with better chances of getting her shot than free. Slowly her options for action were whittled down to one that was crazy to try.

He was going to kill her, there in the stairwell or later. For all that she might have a cleaner escape if she bided her time, the voice in her head, which sounded like her self defense instructor, reminder her of the horrific things that could happen in the interim.

She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, and then deliberately flexed her right hand until it stopped shaking. She‘d done crazy before.

The trip across the ground floor landing seemed to take an age. When she was about four feet in front of the door, she thought she heard the far off wail of sirens. It was the last push she needed.

Her left leg had been in the motion of taking a step forward. When her foot landed, she pushed off the ball, throwing her weight back and to the side. Her body connected with his chest, jarring them both. The gun slipped over her right shoulder.

Desperate to control the aim of the weapon, her right hand darted up and grabbed the barrel. The metal bit into her palm as terror gave her strength. She yanked down, twisted, and Bein’s first finger caught in the trigger guard. A popping crack of bone sounded near her ear.

With a breathy holler, he stumbled back. The resistance on the gun was suddenly gone and she realized he’d let go. She was left holding it by the muzzle. Sweaty hands fumbled the weapon before getting it in to a working grip.

Angela spun toward Bein, teeth bared in hatred, and aimed center mass. The man across from her stumbled to a stop mid lunge. Green eyes narrowed, her entire face screwed up in determination. “Move and I will fucking shoot you,” she promised in a guttural voice.

Bein remained still, cradling his right hand in his left. His eyes raised to hers, and the anger in them made her brace the hand holding the gun with her other. An eerie calm spread through her. She could feel the way her whole body was vibrating.

“I will not miss,” she solemnly informed.

And she did hear sirens, growing louder by the second.

……………………………….........................................................................

Tony had been frightened before. He had very recent experiences with the kind of terror that made your balls crawl back up inside your body. When Angela had moved off screen the second time, Tony had been too busy directing the police to her to protest. It hadn’t stopped the chill that rolled over his skin and raised the hair on his scalp.

He hadn’t waited to see if she came back into view. He was out of the garage before he’d even gotten off the phone. The entire way to her apartment, a torturous thirty minutes, he regretted ever allowing her to leave his house.

When he arrived, the parking lot of her apartment had police vehicles crowded around her building’s entrance. Their red and blue lights shone across the pavement and reflected from the windows and doors. Stepping out of his car, his gut churned with the ideas of what he might find.

A huddle of people stood off to the left, some hastily dressed, some still in sleep ware. He had just moved into range of their quiet murmurs when an officer approached him.

“Can I help you, sir?” The cop was young, mid-twenties perhaps.

Tony swallowed. “My…” His what? What was Angela to him? His employee? His friend? The woman he might be slightly obsessing over? He finally managed to spit out, “I called you. My partner was on a call with me when her apartment was broken into.”

The younger man’s gaze sharpened before he glanced back at a knot of uniforms closer to the doors. “Your name?” He asked.

A wry feeling of incredulousness broke through Tony‘s worry. He arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

The officer nodded, as if Tony had confirmed his identity. “Wait here please, Mr. Stark. The detective will want to get your statement.”

“Sure,” Tony muttered.

He tracked the officer’s retreat across the lot to a grey haired man in a suit jacket. Next to the man a slight form shifted, drawing Tony’s attention. The female raised a hand to impatiently brush messy dark hair from her face and Tony’s spine slumped in relief.

Angela‘s familiar profile was difficult to discern in the low, flashing lights. He tried to scan her for any sign of injury, but was too far away. She was outside, bundled up in that ridiculous wrap she liked, standing and talking like she was completely fine. Anxious to find out what had happened after he lost sight of her, Tony shifted his weight slightly from foot to foot.

The officer gestured in his direction and Angela turned her face towards him. When she spotted him, he could see her sag from halfway across the parking lot.

……………………………….........................................................................

The detective kept her and Tony long enough to get their statements before he disappeared back into the building. Guided to a bench in the lobby by another officer, she and Tony sat to complete their incident reports. Around them officer’s moved about their business as the other residents of the building slowly trickled back to their apartments. The ding of the elevator and wheezing click of the stairwell door punctuated the various conversations.

When she had completed the last of her forms and the investigation had wound down, she was given the all clear to head back to her apartment. Feeling watery and strained, Angela made her way to the tenth floor. Tony followed with her. He was being unusually quiet.

They reached the hallway outside her apartment to find the detective waiting for them. Had it been less than an hour before that she‘d been forcefully guided down the dark grey carpet? “Ma’am,” he greeted politely.

She no longer twitched at the address. But she didn’t think she’d ever hear that word without thinking of Jimmy. Beside her, Tony stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Hello again, Detective Carlton,” she greeted tiredly.

The elder man gave her a sympathetic grin. “Before we leave you to get on with your morning, I wanted to let you know that we’ve checked your building and apartment. The area is clear.” He waved his hand toward her closed apartment door. “But we had a young man come forward regarding an unknown individual who prevented him from entering the stairwell. The timing coincided with your assault.” he explained gravely.

Angela blinked at the news. A bubble of cynical frustration rose through her muddle of fear and fatigue.

“Now, I’ve asked for a unit to be placed nearby to keep up surveillance in case this individual returns. But it might be best to find someplace safe to stay for a few days,” he advised.

Angela’s lips parted to reply when Tony inserted himself into the conversation. “This guy, you have a description? Who should we be looking out for?”

Carlton dipped his chin in a curt nod. “A middle aged white male, around five eleven, dark hair, medium build. The witness described the man as having a scar on the left side of his face that covered his ear and went into his hairline.”

Remembering the voices on the third floor, Angela felt her stomach quiver. To distract herself she asked a question that had been bothering her since Bein was safely back in handcuffs. “Detective, Bein was in jail. How did he get out?”

Head bobbing as if he‘d been expecting the question, Carlton assured, “We’ll be looking into that. If we have any more questions, or any updates to your case, we‘ll contact you,” he informed her. “If you have any further issues, please call.”

“Thank you, Detective.” She managed a tight smile.

He left the two of them standing outside her apartment door.

Angela started at the plain grey expanse for a moment, feeling irrationally angry at the place. Returning to her apartment after Italy was supposed to get her back on level. All it had done was show her how bent out of shape her life was.

Tony turned to look at her. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” She pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold, eyes quickly skimming the fully illuminated kitchen and living room.

It was strange. The only sign something unusual had happened in there was the open balcony door. A breeze caught the edge of an old birthday card propped on an end table. It tumbled to the carpet. Looking away, Angela headed for her bedroom.

“I read your statement,” Tony admitted, coming up to stand next to her.

A heavy sigh escaped her. Of course he had. He’d been standing over her shoulder while she wrote it out.

“When’d you become Jet Li?” He asked.

“1997,” she grumbled, retrieving her suitcase from the closet. When she turned around Tony had his eyebrows raised in question, so she elaborated. “The intern incident.”

“What’d you take?” He wondered. She turned to her closet and pulled out a stack of shirts. “Krav Maga? Kung Fu?”

Had she been mentally complaining earlier because the man was being quiet? She dropped the shirts into her bag.

“A self defense course taught by a very frank ex airwoman,” she answered. Her instructor had spared no detail in explaining exactly what could happen if you weren’t willing to fight with all you had.

Tony glanced out her bedroom window before commenting, “Well, sign me up. Still, that was awhile ago.”

“Happy made me practice after the Hammer mole.” Then with more seriousness she admitted, “I got lucky tonight. He wasn’t expecting me to fight back.”

A million different little things went her way that night. The specters of what could have happened swam through her head. Angela worked her jaw, struggling to hold back the sudden burning in her eyes.

“Then he obviously didn’t know you,” Tony replied softly.

She squeezed her eyes shut harshly. When she felt her voice would be somewhat steady she asked, “Could you step out for a minute? I need to change.”

Instead of innuendo, Tony answered with a swift, “Sure.” He left the room and closed the door behind him.

Angela hunched half in her closet and clamped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t know if it was to keep in a scream, a sob, or both.

……………………………….........................................................................

“Hotels have security,” Angela argued.

Tony eased the Audi out of her lot and headed for the Pacific Coast Highway. “Mine’s better,” he declared.

Beside him Angela shuffled back in her seat. “Even if I conceded that your security is better,” she began.

“It is,” he assured.

“There’s still no reason I can’t drive myself,” she finished.

“Happy would frown,” he reasoned flippantly. The truth was that Angela was shaken up. He suspected that she’d left something out of the official report.

A grunt of disbelief rose from his right. He glanced over to see her cross her arms like a petulant child. It was adorable.

“What? You don‘t want to hang out with me?” Tony joked. “I’ll have you know, I’m a good time.”

He knew he’d succeeded in amusing her when he heard a little huff of breath leave her nose. “I’m sure you’ve heard that a lot,” she drawled.

Tony grinned. “I have,” he admitted proudly.

From the corner of his eyes he caught her shaking her head.

They passed through the Palisades. The lights of the city slowly fading behind them until the glow of the San Fernando valley peeked over the hills. The muted road noise of the Audi filled his ears.

Tony allowed his mind to ponder the night’s events and their possible future outcomes. Above them the sky lightened to a shade off black.

“Thank you.” Angela’s quiet voice broke into his thoughts. He glanced over at her, seeing her looking back at him.

“Sure. Not a problem,” he demurred.

“For calling the police and for coming to get me,” she continued.

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you there.” It never crossed his mind to not go get her.

She made an amused sound in her throat. “I have been rather burr-like lately.”

“Yeah, but you’re… He groped for a word. “Useful. A useful burr. Building the Mark II, laying the foundation for my Clean Energy department,” he elaborated. “It’s not terrible having you in my shop.”

“Wow. I feel special,” she deadpanned.

“You should,” he shot back. Anyone allowed in his shop should feel all kinds of shiny.

She sighed at him and tilted her head back against the headrest. “You know, if Bein did have an accomplice it may take awhile for the police to find him,” she commented.

“He did,” Tony insisted. Besides the story about the lurker with the scar, there was a more obvious reason Tony believed Bein had assistance. “How else did he get out of jail?”

……………………………….........................................................................

Notes: OMG I rewrote this a bagillion times. Major rewrites where the scene was completely different. I ended up shuffling and rewriting portions of four chapters to accommodate the changes. I had to redo my timeline! *screams* I just couldn’t get the realism I wanted and when I did, Angela came off like Chuck Norris. I hope I’ve managed some balance. *Bites nails* Just as comparison the first draft of this involved a wine bottle, a parking lot, and Bein acting like an expositional idiot. Also there was a Whole Foods. (Incidentally that was the inspiration for Thor Goes to Whole Foods. Because I needed a break after that shit.)


	18. Do It Yourself

_Disclaimer: Marvel and Disney own Iron Man. I don’t know who own The Heavy, but it’s not me. I just put them both in a trash compactor and used the cube as outdoor seating. Probably should by some rust guard._

 

Chapter 17: Do It Yourself

The Heavy- Short Change Hero

By the time she settled back into Tony’s guest room it was half passed five in the morning. That unhappily put it at just the right time on a Saturday to call Mike. Within a handful of rings he answered.

“Morning, Genie.” Mike’s voice sounded fully caffeinated. She was jealous.

“Hey, Mikey. How‘s things?” In the background from his end she could hear the sound effects for some cartoon.

“My house is under attack by heathens. Hold on a second.” There was a rustle and then she could hear her brother mutedly scolding, “Feet off the table, butt in the seat.” There was a pause before his voice dropped a register. “Now,” he commanded sternly. The phone shuffled again before he came back on. “Sorry about that.”

“Attack rebuffed?” The levity in the conversation was welcome while it lasted.

He let out a rough chuckle. “For the moment, but I can see them reforming their battle lines. So, you’re making a habit out of getting up early,” he teased.

“Yeah.” Damn, she didn’t want to ruin his Saturday. “Hey, if you’re busy I can call you back,” she offered.

“Nah, Molly’s got the fort for a minute. Besides, you have ‘I‘m not gonna like this‘ tone,” he accused. “What’s up?”

She hesitated, debating the best way to get into the heavy bit of the conversation. Blowing a breath out the side of her mouth she finally just announced, “My apartment was broken into last night.”

“What?” Mike sputtered. “Jesus Genie, are you alright? Were you home?”

Squeezing her eyes closed, Angela thought she really had to stop springing unexpected peril on her brother. “Yeah,” she drawled. “You might want to head outside,” she warned.

There was some very sotto voice cursing. “Start talking,” he ordered in the same timbre he’d just used on his kid.

Starting with the video call, she walked Mike through the events of the night. Slowly the quality of silence on his end of the phone changed. Around the time she told him about being forced to show her arc reactor, a door on his end closed forcefully. When she described her maneuver with the gun, he growled.

At the end of her tale there were several more beats of silence before Mike summarized flatly, “You fought off a kidnapper.” Judging by the lack of inflection in his voice, he was trying very hard not to shout at her.

“Yeah,” she agreed wearily, ignoring the sound of her call waiting. “Look, I’m sorry to drop this on you, but…”

“No.” He cut her off with a strained note in his voice. “Don’t apologize for telling me instead of letting me find out. You fought off an attacker, that’s good.” She could hear his breathing, deep and rhythmic. “That’s much better than what could have happened.” And then his voice rose. “Because he had a gun and you could have been killed!”

Angela briefly closed her eyes, harshly brushing the hair off her forehead. It wasn’t like she had wanted to have a gun shoved in her face.

“Did you have to get involved in another dangerous situation? You just got through the last one,” he scolded, exasperated.

“I did not ask for someone to break into my apartment,” she defended.

“You sure about that?” He sniped. “You’re attempted kidnapper’s name sounds awfully familiar.”

Rearing back, offended, she rebuked, “Don’t you act like I deserved this. I may have gotten myself into a bad situation, but damn it, I saw what was going on…”

He cut her off. “And you couldn’t leave it alone. You know you have a bad habit of only seeing the things you want to see,” he accused.

“And what would you have me do differently? I’m not just going to turn a blind-eye!” A tension headache radiated up the back of her neck and settled above her eye.

On the other end of the phone Mike sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a long, controlled stream. The phrase ‘blind eye‘ was a direct quote from the judge in their parents’ wrongful death suit.

“That was mean,” he warned lowly.

“It was true,” she pointed out. “And you weren‘t exactly being polite either.”

“You don’t hold the sky up, Genie.” After a pause, neither one of them willing to apologize, her brother switched topics. “What are the cops doing about this? SI?”

Angela kneaded her forehead and allowed the change in conversation. “The last I heard SI’s still rooting out the issues.” It occurred to her that it’d been awhile since she’d heard any update about the investigation. “As for the police, they’re working my case. It’ll all take time, but,” she tapped her fingers on her knee, hesitating.

“But?” Mike prompted.

“I didn’t tell the police about his interest in my arc reactor,” she admitted.

On the other end of the line there was a sudden hissing. The green house sprinklers, she assumed.

Her brother grunted in frustration. “Explain,” he demanded tightly.

“Beyond the fact that the arc is proprietary technology,” she began.

Mike cut across her with a clipped, “Don’t hide behind your NDAs.”

“Those NDAs are there for a reason,” she warned. “If this gets out I will never be able to leave the house again.”

“You’re a prisoner in your boss’s house now,” he pointed out.

She covered her eyes with her hand. They felt hot and gritty. “Because somebody has suspicions, but it‘s not the whole world, and they can‘t really know anything about what it does.”

Silence fell between them before he finally asked, “Does he know?”

Angela bit her lip. She hadn’t actually talked to Tony about what happened. “No,” she answered quietly.

“You have to tell him.” His next words were spaced like careful footfalls. “I’ve put enough together from our conversations to guess at some things. He needs to know.”

Her head fall back on her shoulders and she stared grimly at the ceiling. “I know.”

Mike sighed again. She imagined him toeing at an uneven cobblestone. “Jesus, what a mess.”

With a grunt, Angela conceded that was accurate. She glanced out the windows and wished her room had a balcony.

“Look, I get the reluctance, okay?” Her brother broke into her thoughts. “But this is not going to work. Come clean with Stark about what Bein really wanted, then go tell the police the rest of the story,” he advised.

“No.” The denial was immediate and visceral. She did not need anyone picking specifically into the arc reactor technology.

“Genie, you cannot do this yourself and you can’t hide in Stark’s house forever.” His voice had taken on a tone of deep frustration. “Ask him for help. I’m sure the two of you can come up with a way to let the police do their jobs while still protecting his proprietary technology.”

The derisiveness attached to the last phrase pricked at her still simmering temper. She raised her eyebrows at his attitude. He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand the disastrous potential of the thing keeping her alive. “I can’t do that,” she murmured. Voice gaining strength, she continued, “We can’t do that.”

“Why?” He ground out in barely leashed irritation.

Angela huffed in annoyance and deflected, “I’m not drawing undue attention to something that is keeping me alive.”

“What else are you going to do? Its not like you can hunt this person down yourself,” Mike rebutted.

Her head tilted to the side in consideration. Eyes going distant, she reviewed the scant few days she’d dug into the SI records before Afghanistan. “Maybe I can,” she mumbled to herself thoughtfully.

A choked squawk of disbelief drew her attention back to her phone. “No!”

Ignoring her brother’s protest, she mused aloud, “I’ve already looked into this, I just need to dig deeper.”

“What you need is to back away from this, not get more involved,” he snapped. “What would you even do if you found the guy, give the information to the cops? ‘Cause then you’re right back at what you’re trying to avoid now,” he pointed out. With a noise of exasperation, he lectured, “You need to start thinking about what you‘re doing. Use that twisty brain for something other than engineering or getting one up on someone. Take a minute to consider the consequences of your actions,” he pleaded. “This is not your problem to fix! Let the cops do their damn jobs!”

‘Ouch,’ Angela thought. “Now you’re being harsh,” she complained.

“It’s true,” he countered, throwing her words back at her. “You are not a one woman fix-it team and Stark Industries problems are not yours to solve.”

“I’m not trying to solve their problems. I’m trying to solve mine,” she refuted.

“This wouldn’t even involve you if you hadn’t bulldozed into the middle of it,” he argued heatedly.

She bared her teeth at the ceiling and made a claw of her hand, shaking it in frustration. Once she released some of her tension she put the brakes on the conversation before they started screaming at each other over the phone. “We’re arguing in circles.”

Her brother huffed.

“I’ll consider what you said, alright?” She drew her hand away from her chest when she realized she’d begun unconsciously rubbing her knuckles against the rim of the arc. “For now Bein is in custody. It’s possible the police will get him to roll over.”

Mike hummed skeptically.

“And I’ll talk to Tony,” she conceeded.

Finally her brother seemed to calm down. “Good. Just, do that, and don’t do anything reckless.” She gritted her teeth at his assessment of her behavior. “I’m glad you’re alright. It’s just that it seems like you end up in situations like this too often.” He added in under his breath, “Though usually not quite this serious.”

Angela felt her resolve to end the fight wavering and hurried to wrap up the call.

……………………………….........................................................................

After she and Mike said their goodbyes Angela saw she had another missed call from the same unknown number as before. She dialed her voicemail and the government Agent’s smooth tone spoke again, asking her to get in contact with him to schedule a meeting. Glancing at the time, she decided that his request was a bridge too far for her at the moment.

Instead she tapped out a quick text message to Pepper and Happy, asking them to stay mum about being in contact with her and where she might be staying. She didn’t wait for a text back before muting her phone and tossing it onto the nightstand.

Without bothering to get undressed, Angela flopped back on the covers and finally let herself get some sleep.

……………………………….........................................................................

Obadiah casually rested his ankle on his opposite knee. Leaning back in his chair, he set his empty breakfast plate aside and pulled out his burner phone. Dialing the only number on it, he waited.

“Dooley,” a male voice answered.

“How’s our guest?” Stane asked jovially. At the long pause in response he uncrossed his legs and sat up. “Quentin?” He prompted.

“Things didn’t go as planned,” Dooley hedged.

Obadiah closed his eyes. Rolling his jaw, he warned tightly, “If she’s damaged to the point she can’t work I’m going to be very upset with you.”

“No, it’s not that. Jay screwed up,” the man confessed. “She got away.”

Stane‘s eyes flew open in disbelief. “What?” He bit out. In mounting anger, he clenched his teeth and listened as the other man explained.

“I did my part. Jay had a straight in and out,” Dooley was quick to defend. “Before I got out I was able to see the cops take him down. Jay didn‘t knock the bitch out. I don’t know why. She got his gun off him and he got arrested.”

Stane’s face crumpled into a furious scowl. Personal vendettas as motivation aside, he never should have picked cons. That was twice now his plans to kill or incapacitate the woman were bungled by the people he chose to carry them out.

“You were supposed to be with him on the way out,” he accused.

Regardless of the woman being conscious, he couldn’t see how the two of them wouldn’t have been able to overpower her. Hell, one of them should have been enough.

Dooley made a noise of displeasure. “I had to distract some kid on the third floor. Didn’t know things had gone tits up until I heard the sirens.”

Fisting his hand against his thigh, Stane watched his knuckles turn white. “Do you know why I got you out of that cesspool you were rotting in, Quentin?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the man replied. “You needed things done right,” he paraphrased.

“And was this your version of things going right?” Stane snarled. He rose to his feet and paced the floor.

“Jay screwed up,“ the man insisted. “I had a backup plan. I got a GPS tracker on her car now.”

Stane shook his head, slowly calming. The woman was obviously more slippery than he expected. It’d taken two weeks for her to show her face the first time. In a way, that had been a boon. If she’d been accessible before that then Stane‘s hit on her would have been carried out. Though, considering their failure to kidnap her, that might not have been the outcome.

“You’re going to send me the access for that tracker,” he ordered, “Then pack a bag.”

……………………………….........................................................................

Tony found himself exceptionally glad he was not partaking in the pow wow upstairs. Pepper had come demanding answers to a text she’d gotten from Angela, and she’d brought Happy with her. Tony wondered when it became okay for people to storm his house when they weren’t there for him. Though, not being the one in trouble was a novel sensation.

An hour later Angela keyed open the shop security door. She looked tired.

“Hard labor or community service?” Tony wondered.

“Hard labor,” she admitted, settling herself into a chair near his workstation. “Happy busted me back to basic.”

“Ouch.” He winced in sympathy.

She sighed and fidgeted. Darting a few quick glances at her from the corner of his eye, Tony watched her struggle. “I need to talk to you,” she finally said.

Nothing good ever started with that phrase. He was instantly wary. “You are.” He fit together another section of the frame for the stabilizer. “Right now you’re talking and not working. Why are you not working?”

“Because this is important,” she started.

“And you can’t multitask?” Tony swiveled in his chair and grabbed the rivet gun. “I thought you were all about multitasking. You said you had a system.”

“And I can’t talk to you about what I need to talk to you about,” she continued, her voice taking on a sing-song, annoyed quality.

“There was a lecture about it.” He talked over her. “I had to listen. You turned off my music.” Tony felt his irritation swell in remembered outrage. He’d only been checking the voltage her generator could produce. He hadn’t expected it to overheat and start smoking.

“If I don’t have your full attention,” she finished raising her voice slightly. “This is hard for me, and you’re bringing up things that I thought we already covered.” She rolled her eyes and said in an aside, “But apparently you’re still angry about.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” He finally turned his head to look at her. “You blocked the door.” She’d refused to let him escape.

“Because, like now, you weren’t listening,” she complained. “And we’re way off topic. You do this on purpose,” she accused. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t tell the police everything last night.”

Tony paused, his suspicion confirmed. “You lied to the cops?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I omitted.” He studied her posture. She was being cagey.

“What’d you leave out?” He wondered.

Angela’s face, which had been flushed, paled and then flushed again. Tilting her chin down, she dropped her gaze. Tony’s attention sharpened on her further.

Finally she admitted, “Bein made me show him the arc reactor.” Tony froze. “Had me lift my shift before we left the apartment,” she continued. “I’m fairly certain he wanted confirmation. It disappointed him. He wanted to kill instead of kidnap.”

There were a lot of things in what she said that made thought trails spiral off in Tony’s mind. One of them seemed more immediate than the others. His memory brought forth a flash of her on the video call they’d shared. She’d only had her wrap draped around her shoulders. Tony had been enjoying the view of Angela without a bra on.

Eyes narrowed and teeth clenched, Tony thought Bein was lucky he was in jail. He wondered if maybe he should visit. Angela apparently thought his anger was directed at her because she hastily apologized. Tony waved her off. “You didn’t flash him for fun.” He winced when her jaw tightened at his comment.

A scowl crept over his face as he switched thought tracks. “How did he know?” Tony wondered.

Angela shook her head. “I’m not sure. I have a theory.” She licked her lips before explaining, “I’ve gone over all the times I’ve been in public. I can’t think of a single instance where even the glow of the arc would have shown. Even if it had, only someone who knows about tech would think it might be valuable enough to kidnap me for.” She paused to run a hand over her chest. “But there are people who know about the electromagnet. The SI legal department for one.”

Tony took a moment to follow her reasoning. “There’s only a handful of people who might see the arc’s value, be able to spring Bein from jail, and choose him as an enforcer in the first place.”

“All the one’s I could think of work for SI,” she solemnly concluded. “What I showed you on the plane - all that and only four people arrested? I haven’t heard of anything further about it for over two months. Have you?”

“No,” he grumbled. He’d left the investigation to Obie while he did his best to stay low. In truth, he’d gotten wrapped up in the Mark II. “You don’t think the police are going to catch the ringleader,” he speculated.

One of her deceptively small hands rubbed across her face. “Do you?” She asked.

He didn’t. If the man spotted on the third floor of Angela’s building was an accomplice, then the police may catch him. But unless they got one of the men to talk, they probably wouldn’t catch the mastermind.

“You know this means you’re in danger too, right?” She pointed out.

Tony nodded. He did. Getting to him was significantly harder than getting to Angela, however. He watched the way she hugged her arms around herself and felt his jaw twitch.

She’d shown multiple times that she would fight to defend herself and she had a willingness to do things other people might see as crazy. Tony couldn’t stop people from seeing her as the easy way to get to the designs for the arc reactor. But maybe he could give her the tools so that Angela could do it herself.

……………………………….........................................................................

Tuesday morning Tony found Angela on the couch in the living room. She was crunched forward, her dark hair spilling over the hands holding her head.

He stifled an impromptu yawn as he walked towards her. “You awake?”

In response she drug her hands down her face and sat up. Tony was immediately struck by her expression of contempt. “Detective Carlton called.” She gestured toward where her phone was sitting on the coffee table. “Bein’s dead,” she announced flatly.

Tony’s brain stuttered. “How?”

With a resigned shake of her head she explained. “He was denied bail, so they remanded him to the Los Angeles County Jail. He was found dead in the showers this morning.” Her lips pressed into a grim line and she rubbed a hand under her eyes. “It gets better,” she warned.

Sinking down onto the couch next to her, he quipped, “I’m reluctant to ask.”

“The other three are dead as well.” She raised her eyebrows at him and Tony took in the implications.

“Well, shit,” he cursed.

……………………………….........................................................................

A few days later Angela got down to the lab to see a second set of stabilizer parts waiting for assembly. Glancing over at Tony, she saw him deep in wiring the one he was working on.

Her thoughts during the conversation with Mike in mind, she gathered up the pieces for the stabilizer and settled at the workstation next to Tony. His dark eyes looked up at her in surprise at her choice of location. She usually worked as far away from his twitchy fingers as she could.

Angela thought she caught a hint of an expectant expression on his face. She frowned at him in consideration but brushed it aside in favor of finding out what she needed to know. “Do you have a backdoor into the SI mainframe?” She dropped her eyes from his and busied herself organizing the parts by stage of build.

“Yes,” he answered slowly.

Angela focused on the parts again with greater attention. Something was off. “What’s wrong with these?”  
  
“Nothing.”

She looked back up at him. He was watching her with a little grin on his face. Angela frowned and held up a piece. “It’s too small,” she declared, comparing the piece to Tony‘s half finished build.

Tony shook his head. The grin was edging toward a smile. “No, it‘s not,” he rebutted flippantly.

Angela squinted at him and then looked back to the part. In her mind she scaled the stabilizer down to a size that would fit the piece in her hand. Her lips parted in realization.

“Tell me you don’t want to fly,” he challenged.

She couldn’t. “I thought you wanted to keep this project to yourself?” She asked.

“This is as much your project as it is mine.” He reached out and gently tapped her shirt and the arc reactor underneath. He drew his hand back and turned to continue working. “Plus you can‘t stay out of trouble. It should help.”

Angela stared at the man, equal parts shocked and touched. He’d said a lot of offhand things about her using the armor, but this… Despite the fact that he obviously didn’t want to discuss it, she felt compelled to lean over and brush her lips against his temple. Dark eyes swung back to her, a little wider than normal. “Thank you, Tony.”

A slight shocked smile danced around his lips. “Sure,” he dismissed.

Happy said Tony‘s trust was rare, that he needed more people who saw him as a good man. Angela thought what Tony really needed was people to trust him back. In the pool of sharks he inhabited, Tony probably couldn’t often share a fish without getting bit.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked.

“Know?” Angela scrunched her brows in confusion.

“The back door?” He prompted. She thought she could see a little smirk on his face.

Giving herself a mental shake, she explained. “I want to look at current SI records to see if things are still going missing.”

He hummed in consideration. “You have to log on to an SI computer in IT, my office, or Obie’s office in order to do any administration.” He explained.

Angela frowned. She would be able to access normal work files, but anything hidden would stay that way unless she went to SI.

“You think someone‘s still stealing tech?” The man next to her had given up on working and had his full attention focused on her.

When she sucked on her bottom lip in displeasure, she noticed he followed the gesture with his eyes. “Maybe,” she said. His gaze snapped back to hers and she explained. “I’ve gone through my old records. I’m convinced the leader is still with the company. If weapons are still going missing it gives me additional chances to tag him.”

After a few moments of consideration Tony got up from his workstation and walked over to his computer bank. He raised a hand and beckoned her over.

Angela pushed back her stool and joined him.

“Input the parameters of what we’re looking for,” he gestured to the keyboard. “We’ll have JARVIS run it. It‘ll be faster and it’ll keep you on the Mark II.”

She immediately leaned forward to start typing. Angela was going to find the person responsible, and when she did, they were going to end up on the wrong end of her temper.


	19. Small Battles

_Disclaimer: Nope. Still don’t own Iron Man. I also do not own Olive Tree or his disturbing 90s outfits. Seriously, they give me retro heebie-jeebies. If wide leg pants come back into style then I’m calling the bell-sleeved trend. Woe to the people who do not learn from fashion history._

 

Chapter 17: Small Battles

Oliver Tree- Hurt

The intercom buzzed and Angela ignored it. It was Tony’s intercom. She was still being kind of rude because it was probably Pepper. But she was busy strapping herself into a flight stabilizer and half hooked to the table. Tony, on the other hand, was just hovering.

“I should do this test,” he argued again.

Angela double checked the connection to her arc reactor. “The last test you did you ended up in the ceiling, again,” she reminded. She’d given up any kind of professionalism around the man. It wore on her patience too much to try not to react to him. Besides she‘d been living with him for two months. Happy made comments.

“Ouch, Panda,” he pouted at her. “We agreed we wouldn‘t mention that.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. You said we shouldn’t mention it.”

“Exactly,” he exclaimed.

“I never agreed,” she finished. The intercom buzzed again. “Are you going to get that? Because I’m kind of,” she trailed off and gestured to the cords around her.

“Later,” he dismissed. He leaned across her body and reached over to close the cuff around her bicep. Angela pursed her lips in frustration at the man.

“Stop.” She brushed away his fussing hand. “You‘re doing that thing we talked about.”

Tony turned his head toward her. “What thing?“ With her sitting and him bent over her arm, they were at eye level. He was crowding her again. A waft of aftershave tickled her nose.

“The micromanaging thing,” she reminded, picking up a screwdriver.

“I don’t micromanage,“ he protested. She tried to lean forward but his torso was almost hovering over her lap. “And this is my shop. I can manage how I want,” he continued.

“You’re in my way.” She actually had to duck under his arm to get at what she wanted to work on. Having his arm basically laying over her back wasn‘t as weird as she wanted it to be. And the man still didn’t move. She noted he was warm and solid. “And hovering,” she complained.

“Pushy Panda,” he accused.

After she finished tightening the connection she ducked out from under his arm and he tugged at the cuff again. She was convinced he enjoyed being difficult. It wasn’t a suspicion anymore.

“I swear,” Angela half groaned, looking up at the ceiling so she wasn‘t staring into her boss‘s eyes at a distance of inches. Because that way lead no where good. “One of these times I’m going to lose my patience with you.”

“You haven’t yet?” he asked teasingly.

Angela dropped her eyes to his and smiled sweetly. “Have I hit you yet?”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “I thought you only did that to people trying to hurt you?”

“Oh, you‘re hurting me,” she assured.

He frowned, his attention dropping to her arm. “How’s it sitting? You still have a bruise,” he pointed to her bicep. Happy hadn’t been joking about refreshing her self defense, starting with how to deal with someone pulling her hair.

She shook her head in wry amusement. Just like that he pulled her back from the brink of murdering him. “It’s sitting fine. The bruise is fine. Let me get it off the stand and see how it feels,” she urged.

“Alright.” He finally backed up. “Okay.”

Angela grabbed her right arm in her left and hefted to get it up. There was a metallic click as she disengaged the stand.

“How is it having it on your right arm?” Tony asked with a note of concern.

“It’s okay. It’s not someone just grabbing my arm,” she assured. “It’s fine.” All the connections around her chest and down her arm were a little uncomfortable. They reminded her a bit too closely of having the battery. But they were temporary so she could handle it.

The security door beeped as Angela stood from the chair. She shifted her feet, compensating for the extra weight. Glancing back at the door she saw Pepper entering, carrying a brown wrapped box with a coffee cup on top.

“I’ve been buzzing you. Did you hear the intercom?” She asked.

Tony answered distractedly, “Yeah everything’s,” he trailed off and processed the red head’s words. “What?”

Angela’s attention drifted back to the flight stabilizer. She carefully flexed her fingers around the tech in her palm. It was a good fit. Keeping the repulsor facing away from her, she rotated her wrist and analyzed her range of motion.

“Obadiah’s upstairs,” Pepper announced.

“Great. Great. I’ll be right up,” he promised, his eyes on Angela’s arm. “How’s the fit? Not confining?”

“No. It’s good,” Angela answered. She did a few flexes with her elbow. Everything seemed alright. The weight was different, but it wasn’t too heavy. The finished stabilizer’s heft would be compensated for by the suit anyway.

The sound of Pepper’s heels clicking on the floor reached her ears. “I thought you said you were done making weapons.”

Angela turned her head and smiled at the red head‘s concerned look. “It‘s not a weapon,” she greeted.

Tony moved a few steps further from Angela’s side. “That is a flight stabilizer. Panda’s design. It’s completely harmless,” he assured.

Angela braced herself and hit the mechanism to power up the stabilizer. It whined and blue light shot down the cables connecting her arc reactor to the repulsor. There was a bang and she was flung backwards to the floor. Tools rattled on the ground as they fell around her.

“Angela?” Tony called in panic. His shoes appeared next to her face and Angela rolled her head back to look up at him. “Are you hurt?”

Maybe. A little. Damn, that packed a punch. Angela groaned. She’d forgotten the Newton’s laws. “Just my pride,” she admitted ruefully.

Well, they had both succeeded in knocking themselves on their asses with the project. That probably didn’t bode well.

Above her Tony snickered. “Should we never speak of this?”

Angela glared. She wanted to rub that smug grin, and the goatee around it, right off his face.

“Oh my God,” Pepper exclaimed. “That was harmless?”

“Mostly harmless,” Angela admitted, sitting up. It definitely had potential though.

Tony reached down a hand to her and Angela grabbed it to hoist herself off the floor. He turned to Pepper and confessed, “I didn’t expect that.”

Angela set her right arm back in to the stand and grabbed the screwdriver again. Tony helpfully rolled her chair back over. “Thanks,” she sat down.

When she glanced back up Tony was still hovering and Pepper was looking at him funny. “Go. Shoo.” Angela waved the Phillips at him. “You have someone waiting on you,” she reminded him.

“You’ll be alright to get out of,” he trailed off when Angela fisted her hand around the tool and held it up threateningly. “Right.” Tony turned to Pepper and offered, “Let’s go before Panda gets violent.”

“I can aim,” Angela called over her shoulder as they retreated. “You’re still in the room.”

When the security door closed, and she lost sight of their feet up the stairs, she dropped the screwdriver on the bench to rub the back of her head. “Ow,” she whined. At least he hadn’t outright laughed at her.

……………………………….........................................................................

As Tony lunged up the steps into the living room strains of piano music reached his ears. He glanced to the left. Obadiah sat in the alcove by the fireplace. He’d shed his suit jacket and was playing his way through something that sounded pretentious.

“How’d it go?” Tony asked, crossing the room toward the living area. Earlier that day there’d been a meeting in New York that Obie had to attend.

The elder man raised his head, turning his attention away from the piano keys to give Tony a look. Ignoring the non-answer, Tony instead honed in on the pizza box resting on his coffee table. His mentor taking the time to grab pizza from Manhattan was never a good sign.

“It went that bad, huh?” Tony mused, seating himself on one of the wooden stools near the cross-section of old growth redwood.

In his peripheral vision he saw Pepper pick her way around the opposite side of the table to sit on the couch. She immediately reclaimed her laptop and became engrossed in work.

Without pausing in his playing the elder man chided, “Just because I brought pizza back from New York doesn’t mean it went bad.”

Tony opened the box and glanced inside. “Sure it doesn’t,” he said in disbelief. It was a cheese pizza from Ray‘s, his favorite. It definitely didn‘t go well. “Oh boy,” he mumbled.

“It would have gone better if you were there,” Obie complained. The music cut off as he picked up his drink and stood from the bench.

Tony grabbed a slice and took a bite, humming a negative. “You told me to lay low,” he reminded. “That’s what I’ve been doing. I lay low and you take care of all…” He trailed off to dab at his lips with a napkin.

“Hey, come on. In public. The press,” Obie walked heavily down the steps, the ice in his drink tinkling. “This was a board of directors meeting,” he informed.

Tony turned his head at that. “This was a board of directors meeting?” He didn’t remember hearing about a board meeting.

Obie sat heavily on the other wooden stool with a sigh. “The board is claiming you have posttraumatic stress. They‘re filing an injunction,” the elder man informed grimly.

Tony dropped his hands to his knees. “A what?” He asked incredulously.

“They want to lock you out,” Obie continued.

“Why cause the stocks dipped forty points?” Tony asked sarcastically. “We knew that was gonna happen,” he argued.

Pepper chimed in seriously. “Fifty six and a half.”

Tony turned to look at her. “It doesn’t matter,” he said angrily. “We own the controlling interest in the company,” he reminded.

Pepper glanced down and then gave him a level look. Tony tried to get a handle on his temper. It wasn’t her fault.

“Tony,” Obadiah drawled. “The board has rights, too,” he reminded patiently. “They‘re making the case that you and your new direction isn‘t in the company‘s best interest.”

Tony wiped his mouth again and rolled his eyes, trying to keep his cool. It collapsed at the board‘s criticism of his actions. “I’m being responsible,” he defended. “That’s a new direction for me, for the company,” Tony quickly corrected himself.

Obie gave him an amused, open mouth smile, and Pepper looked back over at him skeptically. “I mean me, on the company’s behalf being responsible for the way that…” He tried to recover, but Pepper just sighed and Tony gave up. They were ganging up on him. “This is great.” With a jerk he stood, taking the pizza box with him.

“Oh come on,” Obie muttered. “Tony,” he called. “Tony!”

“I’ll be in the shop.” Tony said over his shoulder, walking toward the stairs.

“Hey. Hey!” The elder man gained his feet and followed Tony across the room. “Hey, Tony. Listen.” Obadiah tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Tony turned to him with his jaw tight in frustration and waited.

His mentor’s voice raised in exasperation. “I‘m trying to turn this thing around but you got to give me something. Something to pitch them.” He pointed a finger down at the arc reactor in Tony’s chest. “Let me have the engineers analyze that. You know, draw up some specs.” Obie gestured.

Tony immediately shook his head. “No.” The arc reactor was keeping him alive, and not only him. There was no way he was letting that tech out into the world to be pulled apart. Especially not when someone had attacked Angela simply on suspicion of its existence. “No, absolutely not.”

Obie continued to try to convince him. “It’ll give me a bone to throw the boys in New York,” he argued.

The board and Stark Industries had been given plenty of his designs over the years. It was his company. Tony was not going to roll over so they could get their greedy, backstabbing hands on the one thing he was keeping to himself. Raising his voice, Tony spoke over the elder man. “This one stays with me. That‘s it Obie. Forget it,” he declared in a final tone.

“All right well, this stays with me, then.” Obie said grabbing the pizza box out of Tony’s hands. Tony blew a breath out his nose. Like that was going to sway him. It wasn’t like he was a twenty one year old kid anymore.

After a moment Obie opened the pizza box and held it out toward him. “Go on, here, you can have a piece.” When Tony reached into the box his mentor offered, “Take two.”

Tony grabbed a couple pieces of pizza and turned to head back toward the lab. The discussion was over as far as he was concerned. He just wanted to get back to the shop and take his frustration out on building something.

Behind him the elder man wheedled. “You mind if I come down there and see what you’re doing?”

“Good night, Obie,” Tony called back, and speedily took the stairs downward.

……………………………….........................................................................

Angela heard Tony walk up behind her. “What are you doing?” He asked.

She tipped her head back to look up at him from over the back of the couch. “Trying to vent my frustration through a combination of caffeine and mindless television,” she answered plainly. It seemed bad moods were going around. He had his the night before and now she was in a funk.

Tony moved around the couch and sat down next to her, squinting at the episode of Storm Chasers she was watching. Angela let her eyes slide back to the adventures of meteorologists. After a moment he pressed his shoulder against hers and asked, “Come on, Panda. You’ve been over here scowling at the TV for an hour. What’s the story?”

Blowing out a heavy breath she turned her head back towards him. She sucked on her bottom lip and contemplated all the things that were bothering her. Finally she settled on, “It’s still happening and I can’t figure out who is doing it.”

Next to her Tony set his jaw in anger. She’d shown him the few clues JARVIS had so far netted in his search. Whoever was stealing from Stark Industries was pulling a lot of strings, and with the board trying to shut Tony out, there was nothing they could do but keep trying to find the person responsible on their own.

He sighed. “Pepper says Obie’s still looking. He’s closing loopholes as fast as he finds them.”

She hummed unhappily. It wasn’t fast enough.

“We’ll keep looking too. It’s a matter of time before they screw up,” he assured. “When they do, we’ll be waiting.”

Angela rolled her head against the back of the couch, trying to work the tension out of her neck. That was what was bothering her, time and waiting.

While she waited for the police to finish their investigation, or for the shadowy leader of the theft ring in SI to pop their head over the ramparts, she was trapped. Working on the Mark II, her green project, and remotely monitoring the progress of the construction of her house kept her busy, but she still made time to prowl through the company files manually. Her patience for the hunt was wearing thin, and she found little satisfaction in capturing the smaller prey.

Downing the last of her espresso, she set the cup on the table with a clink. Maybe a stimulant hadn’t been a good idea to calm her down.

At least they had found out why Bein hadn’t been in police custody. It was as simple as bail. She wanted to strangle the judge that granted that.

A pluck on her left shirt sleeve drew her attention and she turned back to Tony.

“Up,” he commanded, already getting to his feet.

She rubbed a hand over her face but obediently stood. Tony called out to JARVIS to flip off the TV and dim the lab lights as he headed toward the door. Angela followed him out of the shop and up the stairs. He made a quick pit stop to pull out a bottle of wine and two glasses. The label on the bottle identified it as a winery she‘d never tried before. One of her eyebrows raised in question.

“Pepper,” he answered her unspoken query. “She mentioned you like to unwind with a glass of wine. Said it keeps you from doing bodily harm,” he gave a shrug.

Angela huffed and shook her head. Sneaky woman probably knew she would eventually need it.

A bit of mischief entered his expression. “She said you‘re a fan of Joseph Phelps? Now who’s a cheap date?” Tony grinned and continued to walk.

Falling into step beside him, she parried, “I never denied it. And, depending on the bottle, Joseph Phelps does not qualify as a cheap date.”

“It does for me,” he drawled.

She rolled her eyes.

Soon she had followed him all the way outside and down to the pool patio. It was a cool evening, but pleasant, and she could see distant lights where the shore curved. He pushed a decorative pillow off onto the deck and then sat down in the lounger. Angela folded herself down into the one next to him and tried to allow the sea breeze to unwind her.

She couldn’t help wondering why Tony had brought her all the way out there. Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice.

“We will find them,” he declared as he poured, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. “Eventually.”

Her lips twisted in displeasure. “Eventually,” she agreed.

Angela took the opportunity to kick off her shoes. It was rather nice to be out of the house. She and Tony had taken to having the occasional meal on the main patio, but she hadn‘t been further from the house than that for weeks.

“And in the meantime,” he handed her a glass of wine, “You‘ll stay here,” he demanded.

“Don’t you have a life to get back to?” Angela asked, unable to keep some sarcasm from slipping through. She took a sip of the wine and curled her legs up on the chaise. Being the forever housemate of a man like Tony Stark didn’t strike her as a wise decision. Granted, he was fun to banter with, had a wonderful lab, and excellent wine, but those were not good reasons.

He smiled at her teasingly. “This is my life.”

“I’m fairly certain there are more business meetings and public events involved in your life,” she sassed him.

Tony kicked his legs up on the lounger and leaned back. “Can’t do anything business related now.” He sounded grumpy. “And I’m still laying low, so no public,” he added.

Angela looked over at the man beside her, taking in his stiff shoulders and frown. For the first time she considered the fact that he may be just as frustrated with the apparent holding pattern of their lives as she was.

She nursed her wine and looked out over the ocean. “Yes,” she hummed. “But that will probably clear up faster than attempting to find unknown person’s involved in weapons trafficking and attempted kidnapping.” Angela pondered the last sip of wine in her glass. Finally, she let out something that had been bothering her since her conversation with Happy months before. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

There was a shuffling sound and then Tony was sitting sideways on the deck chair again. He reached across to take her glass to refill it. “For however long this takes, you will stay with me,” he declared.

His hand brushed hers and she could feel the calluses on his fingers. Tony Stark, billionaire playboy. was a man who worked with his hands for a living. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do I seem like someone who offers things when I don’t want to offer them?”

Angela huffed out a laugh and took her glass back. “No.” She watched him watch her for a moment before telling him the truth. “I appreciate you allowing me to hide in your very secure mansion. It’s a very pretty cage, but I miss my life.”

Accepting that her life pre-Afghanistan was over was proving to be difficult, but she had hope that she could find a new level of normal that was similar. She missed the comfortable familiarity of going in to SI and working with her team. She missed not having to dress in layers. It would be wonderful not to glow in the dark. And she especially missed sleeping nights through on a regular basis.

There was a moment of silence before Tony said lowly, “I’m sorry,” Angela felt her eyes widen. She didn’t think she’d ever heard the man apologize and sound sincere before.

“For what?” She wondered.

In the low lighting of the pool area his eyes looked black. “For causing this. That you got involved with what’s happening with my company.”

Angela uncurled her legs and swung them over the side of the chaise. Her bare feet settled on the tile of the patio and she leaned towards him. He should not feel bad about her choices.

“Keeping myself apprized of what’s going on around me professionally is how I’ve been able to gain the opportunities I’ve had.” She waved a hand at his skeptical eyebrow. “I’ll admit, it’s also a pride thing. Unfortunately, this time, I ended up in something more complicated than I anticipated. It doesn’t make it your fault and it doesn’t make me regret my actions.” she informed him.

If anything it had made her glad that she’d gotten her back up about the whole thing. It had pushed her to attempt to nail those responsible to the wall. Had she simply followed procedure and then let the discrepancies go, she’d still be unwittingly participating in atrocities. She suppressed a shiver and watched him consider what she said.

“You didn’t cause this.” The sincerity in her voice must have gotten to him, because he huffed a breath through his nose, but nodded.

“Sure you don’t want a body guard? You wouldn’t have to stay here then,” he offered.

“No.” She reached out to tentatively touch his knee. His eyes flicked down to her hand for a moment. “Really Tony, it’s not you or the house. I’d feel this way anywhere,” she assured. “Being here with you, actually being able to work, has been nice.” She let her arm drop back against her leg and sighed. “It just seems like we’re stuck in the marshes. I thought I could do this on my own, but maybe Mike was right.”

“You’re not on your own,” Tony reminded, his voice gentle. When she hummed in agreement, he leaned in further and took on an air of conspiracy. “You know Panda, you’re supposed to be relaxing,” he murmured. “Pool, wine, stars,” he gestured, “Relaxing.” Lifting his glass to his lips he took a sip, keeping eye contact with her over the top.

A smile crept over her mouth and she allowed herself to be diverted from her poor mood by the man‘s humor. “This is supposed to be relaxing?” She asked him quietly. She could feel the strain on her forehead where she knew an eyebrow had winged its way towards her hair. Tony nodded with a happy grin. “Sitting next to my Boss’s pool drinking wine with him late at night?” She tilted her head and squinted at him. “Sounds awkward,” she teased.

His teeth flashed in the low light and he leaned back. “It’s only awkward if you make it, Panda.” Tony turned to seat himself fully in the lounger and then kicked his feet back up. “I’m considering going skinny dipping,” he announced playfully.

Angela scoffed. She scooted herself back into her own chair, folded her legs, and put the throw pillow in her lap. “If you start taking off your clothes I am leaving.”

“What about just the shirt?” He bargained.

She took a long drink of her wine, feeling some tension finally bleed away. “Leaving,” she repeated.

……………………………….........................................................................

Notes: I don’t actually think Salieri (which is what is playing in the movie during the scene) is pretentious. The Tony Stark in my head totally thinks it is though. Then again, he’s willing to listen to Suicidal Tendencies. Nuff said.


	20. Learning to Fly

_Disclaimer: I still don’t own The Heavy, or Iron Man. I just sewed them together so I had a shirt to wear today. They keep complaining about unsafe workplaces. I think I might need a lawyer._

_Author’s Note: The song is good throughout, but I suggest listening to it from the beginning starting at the dash mark in the second scene._

 

Chapter 18: Learning To Fly

The Heavy- Same Ol’

“Day eleven. Test thirty seven. Configuration two point oh,” Tony enunciated for the camera. “Panda is on fire safety because Dum-E can’t tell the difference between on fire and…”

Angela broke in. “On the ceiling? On the floor?”

Tony pointed a finger at her. It took some extra effort. The tech was kind of heavy. “Don’t sass me. I‘m not the only one playing pinball,” he tutted.

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe, but Dum-E never tried to extinguish me,” she pointed out.

Tony shot her an unimpressed look. Dum-E hadn’t been on fire safety those times. It was an unfair comparison. He continued, “Alright. Nice and easy.” He bent his knees and centered his weight. “Seriously. Just gonna start off with one percent thrust capacity.”

When he looked up at Angela, he saw she was staring at him with a focused intensity. Tony met her gaze and knew they were both willing the current test to be successful. “And three, two, one,” he called.

The thrusters kicked on with a heavy whoosh of ignition. He immediately had to divert his attention to correcting his balance as he got used to the feeling of the force holding him off the ground.

Wobbling left then right, he could feel the oscillations in his balance growing with each minor overcorrection. After about ten seconds in the air he knew he was hitting a failure point in his control so cut the power. With a clank he landed and immediately had to struggle to keep from tipping backwards. But it had worked. Tony felt triumph start to grow within him. He was the best.

“Okay,” he breathed. His heart was pounding in excitement. They had achieved a hover. It was time to go for directed flight. From the corner of his vision he saw Angela fidgeting. Turning to her and holding out his arms he proclaimed smugly, “Not on fire.”

“Small mercies,” she quipped a little tightly. “Come on,” she urged. “We have three more tests to run.”

“Alright,” he agreed, feeling the manic flutter of creation. “Let‘s show or blow.” Tony positioned himself back in the center of the platform. He briefly turned to Angela and asked playfully, “Are you this pushy with your engineering minions?”

“Worse.” She narrowed her eyes in a mock threat. “You do not want me managing you,” she informed him. Then she proceeded to manage him by pointing and commanding, “Testing.”

He chuckled but obliged. “Let’s bring it up to two point five,” he ordered. This was going to be the one. He could feel it. “Three, two, one.” With a gust of smoke he was back off the ground.

There was some sparking from the left stabilizer but nothing unusual. Tony was able to steady himself easier the second time. He hung there for a moment tilting back and forth to keep himself stable, then he straightened his bent knees. The tiny movement sent him sliding through the air, across the lab, and towards the garage entrance.

Angela immediately jogged after him but kept her distance. There wasn’t much she could do.

With a deep grunt Tony tried to regain control. His efforts towards stabilization were working his core pretty hard. He looked around and found himself at the end of his line of cars.

“Okay,” he said in trepidation. “This is where I don’t want to be.” The last word drug out into a whine of protest as he began moving over the tops of his cars.

Tony tucked his knees, trying to keep the repulsor blasts away from the vehicles and change his direction of flight. “Not the cars. Not the cars,” he chanted. “Yikes.” He flew over the whole row but it didn‘t seem like he‘d done any damage.

Papers went flying and glasses broke as he maneuvered over a desk. ‘Okay,‘ he thought glancing back. ‘A little damage.’

“Look out,” Angela cried. He flashed his attention to her and saw her pointing ahead of him. “Tony, wall!”

When he followed her gesture his eyes widened in alarm at the approaching concrete. In reflex he held both his hands up to stop his momentum. The force sent him ricocheting back over another work station. More papers went flying and a computer monitor fell over, but he was headed in the direction of the testing platform again.

He saw Angela following his movements with wide eyes and laughed nervously. “Could be worse. Could be worse,” he assured. “We’re fine.”

A moment later he skimmed overtop of U, looking down to see the camera pointed up at him. Once over the testing pad Tony managed to center himself with a few more movements. He swung there, slowly rotating, before powering down the thrusters. With a grunt and a metallic thud he landed heavily. His arms pin wheeled and he took a few short steps back to keep himself from falling.

Once he gained his balance Tony noticed his breathing was rapid and there was sweat on his forehead. He felt invincible. Looking at Angela, he smugly announced, “Yeah. I can fly.”

She gave a bright laugh and walked over to help him out of the tech.

Fifteen minutes later Tony stood off to the side of the platform and watched as Angela took up a testing position.

The shirt she had sacrificed to do power testing in was an old, black, Nine Inch Nails concert t-shirt. It clung to her bust and hips, and was tucked into the dark wash blue jeans she had on. Tony took a moment to admire her physique, very appreciative of how the tech strapped to her arms and legs completed the image of an engineer‘s wet dream.

He chased the thought out of his head in favor of wondering if they’d be lucky enough to sweep this phase of the testing successfully. Logically, if his worked hers should too. They’d run the trials on the gauntlets concurrently and had gone back to do a quick battery of checks on her boots once they were finished. She should be good.

“The pivot points for balance are touchy,” he warned.

In preparation she bent her knees and held her arms out to her sides. “I’m not going to crash into one of your cars,” she flippantly replied.

Tony watched her flex her fingers. It was a sure sign of her nerves. “I’m less concerned about the cars and more concerned about you hitting a wall.” He glanced around at the lab. They’d been a bit hasty in prepping the place for a flight test.

Angela looked up at him with a smirk on her face. “As you so joyfully pointed out, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

He grinned conspiratorially. So far they‘d beaten themselves up a little experimenting. “True, but lets avoid a repeat.”

She centered herself and counted off, starting as he had at one percent. Angela lifted into the air in a rush of wind and noise, wobbling more than he thought he had. He could see her pinched expression of concentration as she struggled to remain balanced. After about ten seconds she cut the thrusters and landed, overbalancing forward and taking quick steps to catch herself.

When she straightened back up her lips were parted and her eyes shone. Little strands of hair fell around her face. She blew at one ineffectually. “Hey,” she called. “Come here for a second.”

Tony tilted his head in question, but crossed the platform to her. Angela turned her back to him. “Can you pull the hair away from my face, please?”

He blinked in surprise at her request. Tony supposed it couldn’t be too comfortable having hair in your eyes while trying to fly. He’d never put a woman’s hair up before though. His hands raised and hovered ineffectually around the back of her head. “How do I?” He trailed off.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Just pull the band out and then grab all the hair into a tail and wrap the band around it.” He started to reach his hands out and she added, “Gently. Please don’t yank my hair.”

Tony cautiously pulled the tie out of her hair. A few dark strands came off with it, but she didn’t wince so he assumed it was fine. A whiff of whatever the hell she bathed with tickled his nose, mixed with the scent of warm, slightly sweaty, female. It was a scent he couldn’t name but reminded him of the beach.

Trying to divert his mind from puzzling over her perfume, Tony swept his hands over the sides of her face. The stray hairs wisped softly against his palms. His fingers twitched and he ended up taking an unnecessary step closer to her. A quick flash of her bent over a work table went through his mind and he had to grit his teeth.

Eventually he’d gathered as much hair as he could and rather sloppily scooped it back into a queue. It was lower than hers had been, but it seemed to get the job done. When he finished he took a few steps back and Angela turned around.

“Thank you.” Tony realized he must have had a strange expression on his face because she followed with a, “Sorry, Boss.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Did his voice sound lower than usual? “It’s fine, just hair.” Long, pretty, soft, sweet smelling hair on a very nice looking woman. He cleared his throat. “Did we talk about you calling me Boss? Because I feel like we’ve had that conversation.”

“Sure have,” she said glibly, positioning herself for the next test run. Tony stepped off to the side again, trying to calm down and discreetly adjust himself.

“Okay,” she drew the word out. “You were right about the pivot points. That felt touchy,” she assessed.

Tony shifted on his feet, thankful for the sudden surge of nerves about the test. “It’ll be worse for this one. Small movements,” he coached.

He saw her draw in a breath and then she counted off again. She rose a little faster than he did and he wondered about resistance. When she straightened her legs, she ran into the same problem he had. Angela started moving forward toward the slanted ceiling he’d crashed into months before.

“No ceilings,” she commanded pulling her hands up in front of her. The thrusters paused her on the back side of the toolboxes before she dropped her arms to her side and hung steady for a moment.

“Okay,“ she commented. “I think I get the directional shifts.” With a rotation of her elbows she slowly turned and maneuvered back toward the platform. A few tools rattled when she passed back over the boxes and some papers fluttered to the ground. She hissed and tried to tuck her knees, but it made her flight unsteady and she slid momentarily toward the computer bank.

After a close call with Dum-E, she got back into position and cut the power. Her feet hit the ground and her arms pin wheeled wildly. By the time she gave a last wobble her hair had half fallen out of his pony tail and her lips were pulled down in a grimace. Carefully, she rotated her shoulders.

“Well?” He asked.

Green eyes met his. A dark, arrogant brow raised high on her forehead. “Yeah. I can fly.”

An involuntary, almost inaudible whimper sounded in the back of his throat. He needed to focus. “What’s with the shoulders?” He asked.

She hummed, still shifting her back slightly. “I think I’m going to have to start an upper body workout,” she admitted. “And I need a cap or something,” she mumbled and tossed her head. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a windswept tousle.

Damn, that was hot. Tony forced a chuckle, saved the image in his memory - he’d need it later - and tried again to divert himself. “Okay, let‘s get you undressed.”

He closed his eyes at his Freudian slip. Damn it. He could handle working with her even in his most debauched days. What was the problem now?

……………………………….........................................................................

A few days later Angela pulled her attention from Tony’s silver clad form to her own chromed face mask. It was different to maneuver in the suit. She was still fairly dexterous, but the flexing of her feet was impaired. She tromped around the lab. The effect was rather intimidating.

A mental note about closer fitting clothing was added to her list of things to change. It went along with a hood instead of a skull cap and more flexibility in her hip joints.

She raised the face mask up and fitted it into her helmet. Shades of blue lit up the inside as the display came online. Angela took a moment to get used to having her face covered, although as soon as the external view came online she no longer felt closed in.

“JARVIS?” She questioned. “Are you loaded in?”

“Yes Ma’am. We‘re online and ready.” The smooth British voice of Tony’s AI answered.

“Engage the heads up display,” she ordered. Her eyes traveled around the information showing up. “Import the preferences attached to my User ID.”

“Importing now,” JARVIS answered.

Angela turned her head from one side of the lab to the other, taking in how clear the picture was. The display started picking out parts on the cars and identifying equipment in the lab. She looked over the functions available to her and gave a small huff of satisfaction.

The programming was mainly Tony’s doing. She’d brainstormed with him over the various flight instrumentation they’d need, but kept her fingers out of the coding. She wasn’t a computer novice; during her Master’s she had written her own drafting program. But for the Mark II, JARVIS was the platform through which all information traveled.

She shook her head in wonder. It had taken her and Tony two months to collaborate on the repulsor design for the Freedom Line, mostly over email. Under six months with the man in his lab and they had two personal flight suits.

“Preferences have been uploaded. Calibrating virtual environment,” The AI announced.

“Do a check on control surfaces for me, please,” Angela asked.

“As you wish.”

She watched the data scroll by on the side of the HUD. Her designs for the body control surfaces seemed to be working correctly. Around her she could feel the suit shifting as it went through the function.

“Test complete. Preparing to power down and complete diagnostics,” JARVIS informed.

Shifting her weight, she prepared to take off the mask when Tony’s voice came over the com. “Hold on, JARVIS.” Angela turned in time to see the end of his own control surface trial. “Do a weather and ATC check,” the man commanded. Her eyes widened in incredulity. “Start listening in on ground control,” he finished.

“Tony,” Angela clipped, an uneasy tone creeping into her voice.

“Sir, there are still terabytes of calculations needed before an actual flight,” the AI protested.

“JARVIS,” Tony drawled. “Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk.”

“This is not a good idea,” Angela warned.

“Then stay,” he commented and she couldn‘t help but take it as a challenge. “Ready in three, two, one.”

His repulsors kicked on with a low, throbbing hum. He hovered for a moment before tipping forward and shooting up the ramp from the garage.

Angela swore. She could hear the crazy man whooping through the still open connection. With a frustrated noise Angela selected the flight mode for her suit and tried to prepare herself. Underneath the thread of fear, and the knowledge it was much too soon for a test flight, was a growing sense of excitement.  
 **_____**  
“Perhaps following is not the best idea,” JARVIS piped in.

The HUD lit up with information about air traffic and a digital wireframe of the topography of the area. “I know,” she groaned. But she was going to do it anyway.

Her repulsors kicked on. The feeling akin to standing on two rafts. Once Angela gained her balance, she sucked in a breath, and leaned forward.

The acceleration was intense. The ramp lights flashed below her and she held her breath until she cleared the garage. Then she was shooting straight up into the night sky. The moon was above her and the ground disappeared beneath her. It was the most awesome thing she’d ever done.

A moment later the Stark Complex West sprawled below, a great white collection of circles and curves. Beyond was the dark expanse of ocean, further out the lights from Santa Monica. She moved out over the ocean with her pulse heavy in her ears.

A dot on the HUD showed her the position of Tony, but Angela was more focused on her line of horizon. She dipped back down along the edge of the cliff, skirted the point, and checked her altimeter.

“Handles like a dream,” Tony commented breathlessly.

After taking some time to get used to the navigation, she pulled a tight banking turn. Angela couldn’t help a giggle. Impishly, she poured on some speed. The water rolled only yards below as she shot forward and a high noise of exhilaration escaped her.

“Enjoying yourself back there?” Tony’s amused voice filtered through the com.

She gained some altitude, barrel rolled to the left, and hooted in joy. Some distance ahead of her she could see the light from his thrusters. “Absolutely,” she admitted.

A warm, giddy laugh rolled back across the com.

Angela saw him swing around the carnival at the pier and then head inland. She followed his path, curving around the Ferris wheel. A kid riding it was pointing at her and she laughed, accelerating further. Below her grids of light swept passed and she angled to climb.

“Alright let’s see what this thing can do,” Tony commented. “What’s the SR-71’s record?” He asked.

“The altitude record for fixed wing flight is eighty five thousand feet sir,” JARVIS answered.

“Records are made to be broken,” Tony observed. “Come on,” he yelled.

She’d reached his position but he was rocketing straight up above her. Angela turned to follow, keeping her rise in altitude slower. She banked in a wide upward spiral around his flight path.

Before she could figure out if it was worth it to try to caution the man, JARVIS’ voice came through the coms. “Sir, there is a potentially fatal build up of ice occurring.”

Angela craned her neck to target Tony on her HUD. He was headed straight up at tremendous speed. She kicked more power to her thrusters, not trying to catch him, just get closer. If JARVIS noticed ice on her suit she’d drop it back down.

“Higher,” Tony grunted.

She watched anxiously as he continued to climb, unhappy with his determination to push the suit so hard on their first real world test. Then one after the other his repulsors winked off. The com connection cut and her eyes widened at the realization he was up there with her in a dead suit. “JARVIS, find him,” Angela commanded.

A point was identified on her screen and Angela dove up toward it, rolling slightly to the right. As she approached the indistinct speck evolved into a clear view of the suit. Tony was falling on his back. With a sudden shower of ice, his flaps deployed and he flipped to his stomach.

Just before she contacted him from a shallow angle, she cut her repulsors. The slam of impact vibrated through her. She scrabbled to get her arms hooked under his arm pits as they tumbled wildly in a mess of falling metal and limbs. Below her the buildings and streets of Los Angeles grew larger at an alarming rate.

Finally she got him propped on her biceps. Angela kicked her thrusters back on, swinging them up and away. Even though the suit took most of it, her shoulders and arms strained under his weight. She grunted in pain. About that time his suit’s eyes lit back up and the com reconnected. He fired his own repulsors back on and Angela abruptly dropped her arms. She shot away from him at an angle, swinging around the side of a high rise.

The crazy man was laughing uproariously. At the sound anger flashed through her like an old familiar fire. “Idiot,” Angela shouted. “What the hell was that?” She swore.

“Easy,” Tony chuckled. “Put your claws away, Panda. I’m fine,” he placated.

“You could be the world’s richest pancake right now,” she berated him. “For a flight stunt!” Her heart was still pounding in her chest, this time in fear.

Ahead of her Tony curved back toward Malibu and Angela followed. “We need to know the limits,” he explained easily. “And now we know we have an icing problem to fix. Besides, you had me.”

“Icing problem,” Angela muttered sourly. That was putting it lightly. At least the manual flaps worked and the suit booted back up.

“Lighten up a bit, angry bear,” her insane boss teased. “Meet you in the shop.”

She eyed the fast approaching point that Tony’s house was on. He was flying incredibly low to the water. Much lower than she had earlier. The man was a menace. He was going to end up killing himself in the suit and somehow she would end up at fault.

Angela shivered as what had been intended as a sarcastic thought ended up playing on a still raw nerve. During the moment she winced and closed her eyes in reaction, she lost sight of Tony again.

Not overly worried, as he was probably landing back at the mansion, Angela focused on her own arrival. The angle of approach flashed on her HUD and she lined herself up with the garage ramp. Deceleration was going to be a problem.

She heard Tony call, “Cut the power,” to JARVIS. There was a beat of silence and then a resounding crash filled her ears. Her eyes widened and she wondered if Tony had come in too quickly.

“You alright?” She asked.

“Fine,” Tony replied with a groan.

With some quick mental calculations Angela slowed her speed. She shot down the ramp, nearly skimming the floor, and then quickly turned her palms to bring herself upright. She shot toward the ceiling and immediately cut the power. With a heavy thud she landed, knees buckling and forcing her to put a fist down to avoid face planting. Looking around, she realized that even with her caution she’d still shot fairly far into the garage before stopping. She’d also put a divot in the floor. That was going to take practice.

A blast of extinguisher foam from her left startled her. Angela noticed the air in the shop looked dusty and the car alarms were going off.

When the foam finally cleared, she could make out that Tony was laying on the hood of the crushed Shelby. She glanced up and saw the hole in the ceiling.

“Really?” Angela wondered aloud.

Tony just laid his head back against the car in defeat.

……………………………….........................................................................

After getting out of the suit, Angela retreated upstairs to tend to her bruises. Once in her room she peeled off her band t-shirt. Even with her tighter fitting clothing, the suit pressed every seam and any excess fabric folded against her skin. Her laptop caught her eye and while she waited for the tub to fill she browsed around the internet.

The best option seemed to be some combination of under armor or bicycling suit. When she came across a man’s version she smirked.

“Hey, JARVIS?” She called.

“Yes, Miss Harper?”

“I’m thinking of ordering under suits for the Mark II’s. If I give you the brand and style can you fill in Tony‘s measurements?” She asked.

“That is within my capabilities,” he agreed.

Angela spent a few minutes dallying over styles before she chose one and completed her order. The shop was local, so she negotiated a healthy bonus if they could get the suits to her by morning.

“Thanks, JARVIS.” She shucked the rest of her clothing before heading toward the bath.

“You are quite welcome.” Angela swore the AI sounded amused.


End file.
